


The Vigilante of Eden

by claimingsanctuary (timeschange)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, Vigilante!Castiel, Wing Kink, Wingfic, hunter!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1870410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeschange/pseuds/claimingsanctuary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the age of eighteen, Castiel had to leave everything-- including his best friend and possible love of his life-- behind to move to Eden, to become one of the royal court Angels. He ended up becoming more than that, however. The Angel of Darkness, Eden's citizens sometimes called him. The Vigilante of Eden. The Angel with Black Wings. </p><p>Fifteen years later, Dean Winchester stumbles back into his life, bringing news that threatened the entire world Castiel had built for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've had in my head for a LONG time, but it's never been quite right. It's too complex for a short story, it's not quite right to be made into a full book. I had original characters at first, but yesterday it HIT ME. This is the PERFECT DESTIEL FANTASY AU. Everything about the characters and plot fit, so here I am, sharing it with all of you.  
> (I think I sort of loosely based this off the Montmorency books...give credit where credit is due, right?)  
> Enjoy!  
> [My Tumblr: (I love getting new followers and I always follow back!)](http://emmarowene-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/)

“Castiel.”

Cas froze at the sound of the voice behind him. Slowly, he turned, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “Zachariah,” he nodded.

The older man approached, flashing his sickly-sweet smile. “Tell me you’re not retiring already? You’re going to miss all of the fun.”

“The King gave me permission. And you know I prefer not to consume alcohol when I can help it.”

“I know,” Zachariah whined, lifting his hand to ghost his fingers across Castiel’s jaw. Cas tried not to flinch away—Zachariah may have been a sleazy, disgusting kiss ass, but he _was_ a Duke and a member of the royal court. Cas would do well not to offend him. “But I’d like to see you more.”

“I’ll remember that in the future,” Cas grated out, fighting to keep his meek, polite composure. Here, in the castle, he had to remember to be polite. There was a time and a place for letting loose, and this was not it. “For now, however, I am tired. Goodnight, Zachariah.”

“Goodnight, Castiel. Sleep well.”

 _Sleep._ Cas snorted. Angels didn’t need sleep, but the nobles were so lazy and fat they’d long since forgotten.

Castiel was much more productive with his time.

As per usual, a guard escorted him home—nothing less for one of the King’s favorite angels. He had to stay safe, after all.

It was a short walk from the castle to Castiel’s small, modest home. The guard left him at the front gate, promising to pick him up at the usual time the next morning.

Most of the King’s Courtiers lived with the King in the castle, but Cas somehow managed to convince the man to let him have his own home, saying that he ‘was used to independence and wanted to uphold some semblance of normalcy.’

Castiel was different than the rest of the Angels of the Court. He hadn’t grown up in the city of Eden, like the others. He’d been raised in a small village, thousands of miles north and east.

His father had been one of the King’s most trusted advisors, an archangel of the highest ranking, but his mother was just a small girl from nowhere important.

What can he say? They fell in love. Married. Created Castiel. When his father was assassinated, Cas was still a child, and so his mother—rather than staying in Eden, a home that was not her own—returned to Lawrence, with the understanding that when Castiel was old enough, he would have to return to Eden and take over his father’s position.

At eighteen, before his wings even manifested, he left behind everything. He left behind….No. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Point is, he was different from the other members of the court, angel and human alike. He didn't grow up in luxury. He wasn’t content to sit around all day and sleep all night, not engaging or caring about anything. He grew up having to work to live, having to fight to protect, having to nurture to love.

Castiel loved fiercely and protectively, and once he loved something he fought for it. So when he fell in love with the shining city of Eden, he couldn't bear to watch as Eden fell apart. He tried talking to the King about it, but the King was-- sorry as he was to admit it-- too cowardly to act.

Once he got inside the house and gave himself a moment to breathe, he headed to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he removed the irritating brown contacts from his eyes, revealing the natural, electric blue underneath. The contacts had become a staple part of his daily wardrobe, his natural blue being too striking and unique to wear both day and night. They were a dead giveaway.

As were his wings. He lifted his eyes to the large, white fixtures arched above his back with a sigh.

All citizens of Eden told stories of the city's protector, an angel with wings the color of the night sky and eyes the color of the ocean.

Next, he scrubbed his face clean of the powdery white foundation covering it. It was “in fashion” for men of high birth, particularly angels, to be pale, much as Castiel wished it wasn’t. His skin was naturally tan, which hadn't been so much of a problem when he'd lived in the sunny north.

He slipped out of his many layers of unnecessary clothing—jewelry, coat, waistcoat, undershirt, boots, trousers, stockings—rolling his eyes at the impracticality of it all. When he first came to Eden, he was shocked by the amount of ridiculous, ostentatious clothing people wore for the sake of fashion.

Once he’d completely stripped down, he stepped into the already-filled bathtub which he had a servant, Inias, come in and fill every day before he got home. He started by rinsing his hair, trying to wash out the mountain of hair gel needed to keep the black mop flat on his head. Without it, it stuck up in every direction, and no amount of brushing or hair pins could save it.

After washing his hair until it squeaked, he moved on. He took the bucket next to the tub and filled it with water, reaching back and dumping the water over his wings. Ten minutes of twisting, contorting, rinsing, scrubbing, and brushing later, the tub was filled with a clumpy, milky white mixture and Castiel’s wings were once more a beautiful, sleek blue-black.

He flexed them, letting them twitch and stretch without the constraint of the white paint, and smiled. It was the greatest feeling, getting home every day and being able to free his wings of their painted confinement.

He abandoned the clothes on the floor, instead heading to the back of his closet and finding his work clothes. The outfit included: a pair of black trousers (tight fitting but made of a flexible fabric), a belt (and attached to it, two thin knives, and occasionally a sword), and a loose fitting white button up (he always left the first two buttons untouched), a long, pale brown coat, and a strangely shaped bronze pendant with a face on it—the last of these had no practical use, but it was something Castiel kept on him at all times.

None of this twenty layers of clothing nonsense. His uniform was simple and practical, made to let him move swiftly and silently. The coat was perhaps an indulgence, but he had to admit he liked the look it gave him.

He unlocked the door to his basement and climbed down the rickety steps. There, in the middle of the floor, was a large drain, just large enough for a person to squeeze through. It led, he knew from experience, into the city’s sewer system.

Pressing his wings tight to his back, he lifted the cover off the drain and climbed down into the hole.

From there, the whole city was before him. The modern underground sewage system was still relatively new—it had been installed a hundred years ago—and most of Eden didn’t realize that a sprawling maze stretched beneath their feet, a maze that led to every building and street in the city.

It had taken Castiel less than a week in Eden to discover it. Another week to memorize the layout. He didn’t mind the smell, for a few minutes at a time, and he could fly through the tunnels so that he didn’t have to touch the slime on the walls or the waste on the floors, so it wasn't really so bad.

He soared through the wide tunnel, twisting and ducking to avoid pipes and barriers, and reached his destination in a few minutes. The cover was already open for him and he rose up through it, spreading his wings in the sudden fresh, open space. He settled with a soft sigh and tucked his wings back up behind his back, kicking the manhole closed with his boot.

“Evening, Clarence,” a cloying, feminine voice came from behind him.

“Meg,” Castiel said, unsurprised, turning toward the demon girl. “I hope you weren’t trying to sneak up on me.”

“Like I could even if I wanted to,” Meg smiled up at him, rising to her feet and stretching sensually.

They were in a large stone basement, surrounded by kegs of a dozen different kinds of alcohol and other food supplies. Meg, for her part, had just been lounging on a stack of flour sacks.

“Were you napping down here again?” Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “Ellen wouldn’t approve.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Meg chirped, turning toward the stairs, “Are you coming, or would you rather hang out down here all evening? It’s not like you have work to do or anything.”

“I’m coming,” Cas said, following her. He tucked away his wings, fitting them in the space between worlds so they could not be seen.

Meg and Castiel’s relationship was an unusual one. She was a demon, and he was an angel. She was a _good_ demon and he was—by his own people's standards—a _bad_ angel. She was the first person to befriend him when he came to Eden (the first person that wasn’t simply befriending him to please the King, that is), and since then, their friendship had only grown.

She flirted with him ceaselessly, and he even flirted back occasionally, but that’s not what their friendship was based on. Their friendship came from mutual understanding—knowing what it is to be the minority, and knowing what it is not to fit in with even the minority. They were both unique among their own kind, and because of that, they understood what the other endured.

Demons rarely wander into Earth, instead keeping to their own country—the Western land of Hell, whose border is a mere three days’ ride from Earth’s capital city, Eden.

When demons did wander into the country, they were looked down on and hunted by humans.

In Earth, even rarer than demons are angels, though angels live in harmony with humans. More or less. They are revered by humans, mostly, but they are also viewed with fear, because humans fear that which is different. Angels live _beside_ humans—mostly in the royal court or other positions of power—but they do not live _among_ humans.

“So,” Meg began, “is tonight a running night, or will you be gracing us with your presence?”

"I’ll be here,” Cas answered. “I ran last night.”

Castiel didn’t like keeping to a schedule. Switching up what he did and when kept him unpredictable, making it more difficult for him to get caught.

“Goody,” Meg smirked, holding the door open for him.

It was early in the evening, so the Roadhouse was still mostly empty. When he entered the room, Jo looked up from wiping down the bar and smiled at Cas.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “How was your day?”

“Long,” Cas answered, smiling back easily. He accepted the drink Jo passed him. The bar’s few patrons had looked at him with interest when he came in, but quickly lost interest and returned to their meals. Without his wings, he passed as a normal human from a distance.

“Ah, yes…your long day of doing what, exactly?” Meg asked.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Valiant attempt."

They didn’t know who he was during the day. Nobody in his life knew who he was, not completely. They only knew one side—either the innocent or the outlaw. It was one of the downfalls of his lifestyle: he was free to save people, but there was no one to save him.

Castiel considered _this_ life to be who he was at the core. The man he became when the sun set. The vigilante, they called him, the Angel of Darkness. The Angel with the Black Wings. He owned the city, knew its every secret and manipulated its every weakness. He’d been in Eden fifteen years, and for fifteen years he’d been fighting to save the city. It was a slow battle, and he was only one man, but he did what he could.

This, Castiel liked to believe, revealed the truth in his soul. He wasn’t the smiling, mindless clone the court and the other angels worked to turn him into. He was more than they would ever be, because he had suffered, and he had loved—and humans had always done more for him than his own kind had, and so he would continue to fight for them.

His friends here in the Roadhouse probably would have laughed themselves to tears if they saw him as he was during the day: painted wings, perfect clothes, miserable out of his mind.

“Meg, could you go clean the bathroom before the crowd comes in?” Jo asked, “Mom went to the market and left me with, like, a million things to do.”

Meg pouted, then perked up and turned to Cas with a wicked glint in her eye. “I would love to, Jo, doll, but Clarence said he had an errand for me to run, _isn’t that right,_ Clarence?”

“I do, actually. Sorry, Jo,” Cas said. Meg worked for Ellen, but she worked for Castiel first and foremost. He leaned in so he and Meg were only inches apart, casting a suspicious look at the man slumped at the other end of the bar, and lowered his voice. “Sal Stewart, the owner of the training post down by the docks?”

“I know the one.”

“Tell him that the problem is being caused by his assistant. She’s manipulating him, dealing under the table with his competitor.”

“Gotcha. What does he owe you? Seek and inform?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back in an hour, boss,” Meg said, giving him a mock salute and a wink.

“If you really need help with your, um, bathrooms…” Cas trailed off when Meg was gone.

Jo snorted. “I’m not going to make Eden’s vigilante scrub our toilets. If you really want to help, though, you could bring up a keg of ale from the basement. We’re running low.”

“That I can do.”

 .

He lounged at the bar all night, occasionally helping Ellen or Jo with something. Once or twice, Ash sat and talked to him. Ash was strange, and Cas often didn’t understand what he was saying, but he enjoyed the eccentric man’s company nonetheless.

Meg sat a few seats down from him, dealing with prospective clients. He half-listened as a young man approached Meg nervously.

“I want to speak to the Vigilante. I heard you’re the one to talk to? You _are_ Meg, right?”

“That’s me, sweetheart,” Meg smirked, looking the man up and down.

"But you’re a demon,” the boy gasped.

“Don’t worry, I’m one of the good guys,” Meg whispered with a wink. “Sit.”

He sat.

"Name?"

"Uh, Kevin Tran."

“I’m guessing you haven’t done this before, Kevin? Let me tell you how it works, then: You don’t get to meet the Angel unless I say so, got it? You’re going to tell me your problem, and if I think it’s important enough for the boss to deal with, then I’ll let you know. If I say yes, you’ll come back tomorrow and meet him upstairs, and from there, he’ll decide whether he wants to take your case or not.”

That was how it worked when Castiel wasn't in the building. It was, however what Meg told every potential client. On the nights Castiel stayed in the Roadhouse, Meg didn't make any of the decisions. They had a system worked out: he listened in, tapped the counter once for yes, twice for no. It’s not that he didn’t trust Meg’s judgment, bravado aside she was a good woman and he would trust her with his life, but she had a peculiar sense of humor and she had a way of mixing it into the cases she chose for Castiel.

“Most people come to the Vigilante because they got something discreet they need to know. If you want easy information about something, it’ll be ten silvers. Information that’s harder to get’ll be between twenty and thirty, depending, and if you want him to actually _do something_ for you, you know, steal something, take down a bad guy, kill someone--”

“Kill someone?” the boy squeaked.

“Hell,” Meg rolled her eyes, briefly meeting Cas’ amused glance with a _do-you-see-what-I-have-to-deal-with_ look. “It was a _joke,_ kid, he’s a _hero—_ he doesn’t kill people. Come on, what’s the matter with you? Anyways, the price is all up to him, but it’ll be a lot more. So we all clear on that?” the boy nodded. “Good. Now, tell me what’s bothering you, baby boy.”

 .

“I call it: _electricity_ ,” Ash bragged. Cas nodded at him, eyebrows raised and a small smile on his lips.

“It’s an interesting theory,” Cas agreed. “You’ll have to show it to me if you get it to work.”

“ _When,”_ Ash nodded sagely. He said something else, but Cas was no longer paying attention. He was watching the man that just walked into the Roadhouse.

The man was beautiful. He was tall and broad, all cheeky grin and confident swagger. He walked toward the bar, and Castiel swallowed nervously. Bow legs. Luminescent green eyes. A beautiful constellation of freckles across tanned skin. A golden, profoundly _pure_ human soul.

Dean.

Castiel looked away when the man reached the bar, hiding his face. Dean—who else could it possibly be? In his entire life, Castiel had only ever seen a soul as beautiful as that in _one_ man—started speaking to Jo in a low, rough voice, and Cas risked a glance. He was leaning casually against the bar, a flirtatious smile on his face. Jo was blushing, and fumbling to get the man his drink.

“Do you know where I can find a _Meg?_ ” the man asked. “I’m told I need to talk to her.”

Castiel glanced over the man’s shoulders, meeting Meg’s predatory gaze. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw the panic that was probably plastered across his face. His hand automatically flew up to the pendant around his neck, and he shook his head once, a barely visible movement.

He didn’t give Meg time to react before he pushed himself away from the bar, heading straight for the basement, and he didn’t stop until he was home.

Only then did he let himself panic.

 

_"No fair!" Castiel shouted, climbing as fast as he could without losing his grip. All to no avail. Dean was already at the top, sitting and smiling down at him._

_"I win." he said smugly as soon as Cas reached the top, settling on the branch next to him with a huff._

_"No you do not! That was unfair and you know it!" Castiel said; feigning anger. In truth, he couldn't be mad at Dean._

_"How was that unfair?" Dean asked with his sweet, melodic voice, a teasing smile on his face. “Sammy, was that unfair?” he called down to the base of the tree. The young boy at the bottom looked up from his book just long enough to roll his eyes. Dean laughed quietly._

_"When my wings come in, I’ll be able to beat you every time,” Cas smirked._

_"No way, dude. Using wings—now that’s cheating, Cas." he said, smiling again. The sun played on the young boy’s freckled face, lighting up his green eyes and giving them a golden cast._ _"I’m a better climber than you, and you know it," he teased._

_Cas shook his head, smiling._

_"Oh, yeah? You want a rematch, then? Okay..."_

_“No,” Cas laughed, catching Dean’s arm as the boy moved to climb down. “We can have a rematch later. Just stay up here with me.”_

_Dean smiled at him. “Don’t ever change, Cas.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_Dean nodded, his smile fading slightly. “Hey, Cas?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Thanks. For, you know…letting me and Sam stay over last night. Dad was…”_

_“I understand,” the older boy nodded, silently letting Dean know that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to. Dean smiled, grateful._

_“Mom’s coming back tomorrow, though,” Dean perked up, “it’ll get better then. Dad’s just bad when she’s gone. And he always makes pie, her first night back, and it's so good. I’ll ask if you can have some, too.”_

_"You don’t have to,” Cas said, “I don’t want to be a hassle.”_

_"You’re my best friend,” Dean said with a sheepish smile. “It’s no hassle.”_

_Cas nodded again. “You’re my best friend too, Dean. And any time you need…anything. I’ll always be here for you.”_

_“Promise?” Dean asked, lips twitching up into a smile._

_“Promise.”_


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Cas went through his daily routine, trying not to think. Put in his contacts, got dressed, painted his wings. Tried not to think about— he cut himself off before he could think the name, squeezing his eyes shut.

The guard escorted him to the castle.

When he arrived at the Roadhouse that evening, he would simply tell Meg that he refused to see the man. It was that simple. If he ignored the problem, his life could return to normal. Dean would be proud of that last thought, if he knew.

He certainly wasn't avoiding Dean because of any lingering sentimentality. There was nothing emotional behind this decision at all. He just couldn’t meet with Dean because Dean's presence threatened to destroy everything he’d worked for in the past fifteen years. Dean had the ability to compromise his identity. That was all.

He marched up the steps to the throne room, hoping breakfast was still being served. He hadn’t the stomach to eat anything earlier, but Michael, the King’s chief military advisor, caught him before he could open the double doors. Castiel's eyes widened-- Michael never spoke to him, if he could avoid it. Castiel was beneath him.

“Castiel, the King wished to see you up in his chambers.”

“Oh.” The door to the throne room opened and Cas caught a glimpse of a platter of fruit. He looked at it longingly. “I’ll head straight there.”

For some reason, the King had immediately taken a liking to Castiel. Cas didn’t understand why; he wasn’t well behaved like Raphael, he wasn’t loyal like Michael, nor was he funny like Uriel.

A servant announced his arrival, and Castiel found the King out on his balcony.

“Come sit with me,” the King commanded, looking out at the City. He gestured to the plate of food on the table next to him, “And help yourself.”

Cas did as he was told, looking out at the view. All of Eden lay before them. Castiel had seen the city like this at night, when he could fly without fear. It was beautiful then, but it was an entirely different sort of beautiful during the day. Serene, holy.

“How was your night?” the King asked, finally looking over at Castiel.

“It was…average, I suppose,” the angel answered, his head tilting in confusion, “my King.”

“I told you, you don’t have to call me that here.”

Castiel nodded with a shy smile.

“If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?”

“Of course,” Castiel said, immediately tensing. 

“Do you think I have an alcohol problem?” the King asked suddenly.

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. The King most certainly _did_ have an alcohol problem, but how was he supposed to answer? Was this some sort of test? “Why…why would you think that?” Cas asked innocently.

“Something the Queen said last night,” the King frowned. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, Castiel.”

“Then…yes, you do… _on occasion,_ tend to consume too much alcohol.”

The King smiled at Cas. “See? That’s why I like you—you tell me the truth. Not like Lucifer or Gabriel used to—those two could be a little _too_ truthful at times. You do it without malice. You just tell things how they are.”

“I _would_ like to add that, while you do spend many nights roaring drunk,” Castiel’s lips twitched up into a smile, “I don’t believe it takes away from your standing as a good King, Chuck.”

It was true. There were problems with the country, to be sure. The royal court needed an attitude adjustment. The capital city was corrupt and needed a _vigilante_ to keep it sound. There were issues. But Chuck was a kind, loving King, and that was something.

“Thanks,” Chuck snorted, “Becky’s a wise Queen, isn’t she?” he asked a little dreamily.

Cas smiled to himself. She was  _something._

“She is.”

“Weird, though,” Chuck laughed again.

“She can be eccentric at times,” Cas agreed with a smile.

“But she’s smarter than most people give her credit for. She has ideas…they’re unique, and sometimes wildly inaccurate, but some of them are so crazy they might just be possible. She told me a really interesting theory of hers last night.”

Chuck looked up, glancing behind them at the servant standing near the door. With a flick of the King’s hand, the servant closed the door and left the two men alone on the balcony.

“Stand up,” Chuck ordered, his voice losing its friendliness.

Warning bells started going off in Castiel’s head, and his mind instinctually sprung into action. He tensed, trying to read Chuck’s body language and scanning the scene around him.

 There were two ways of escape from where he stood—back through the door and off the edge of the balcony. The door wasn’t possible—he’d have to fight through the entire palace. Flying away wasn’t ideal either, though, as his wings didn’t fly well with the white paint covering them. They would get him far enough, though. Then he could hide, flee Eden.

He was always ready with an escape plan—a sort of _‘abandon Eden and flee’_ emergency protocol for if he’d ever been found out. He could be gone by tonight.

It might not even be the worst thin to happen to him. He'd be free, free from the courts and free from his self-imposed prison as defender of the city. He realized part of him actually wanted this, this confrontation.

He stood, ready to fight. He loved the King, the man was like a father to him, but he would fight to defend himself, and the King was short and human. He would be easy to overpower.

“Let me see your wings.”

Cas shut his eyes with a sigh. Chuck knew, then.

Castiel shifted his weight and materialized his wings, hoping Chuck might react well to the news. Well enough to give him a chance to run. It was unlikely, given Chuck’s tendency to _‘freak out,’_ as Meg called it, but there was a chance.

Chuck examined them for a moment, humming thoughtfully. Castiel couldn’t see his expression.

“May I?”

Before Cas could ask what he meant, Chuck was poking at one of the wings. Cas jumped with a slight squeak.

“Wow, that’s clever. That’s really clever. What is that, Castiel, paint?”

For a moment, he considered denying it. “Yes. Sort of.”

“Incredible,” the King breathed. He hadn’t called any guards yet. That was a good sign, right? He turned to look at Chuck cautiously. “You’d never even be able to tell unless you were looking for it.”

“You’re…not angry?”

“I’m livid,” Chuck nodded up at him, “I told Becky that if she was right, she could redecorate our entire room. Do you have _any idea_ what that means, Castiel?”

“Um.”

“It’s not good. But about you spending every night for the last fifteen years fighting crime in mycity? I’m not angry.”

Castiel felt his mouth fall open.

“I’m surprised as hell,” Chuck rubbed his eyes, “but I’m not angry. Maybe proud, even.”

“You’re…what?”

The other side of Castiel’s mind—the cold, calculating hunter—shrugged, just as lost as the rest of him.

“Castiel. I love my people, you know that. I do all I can to help them. But I can’t fix everything, and all you’ve ever done is help clean up my mess. I should be thanking you.”

Cas blinked at him. “You’re welcome?” he replied stupidly.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why the city force hasn’t been as hard on you as it could have been? Why, whenever Michael brought you up in meetings as a problem, I dismissed the issue?”

“I never really…”

“You have blue eyes in all the stories,” Chuck frowned. “Like, they’re supposed to be _really_ blue.”

“I wear contacts.”

“Oh. Wait…you wear contacts at night, or you’re wearing them right now?”

“I’m wearing them right now.”

“ _Really?”_ Chuck asked, peering up at Castiel. “huh. Well…anyways, keep up the good work. Uh, good luck.” The King patted Castiel on the arm awkwardly.

"You won't tell anyone?"

“Apart from Becky? I won't tell anyone. Now get out of here, kid.”

.

Dean Winchester glanced up and down the hallway before stepping out of the supply closet he'd been hiding in. Blending seamlessly in with the crowd, he tried to look like he belonged. After all, he was breaking some serious rules here. _Get locked up in prison for the rest of his life_  rules.

And that in itself was nothing new, but he wasn’t used to committing crimes in the country’s _capital,_ in the capital’s _palace._ That was a little much, even for his standards.

But this was something he had to do.

He caught a glimpse of massive white wings and his heart stopped beating. He never imagined they’d be so…innocent looking. According to the stories, angels were supposed to be fierce warriors. Not the humanoid equivalent of fluffy rabbits.

The winged creature turned, and Dean felt a stab of disappointment. They were attached to an older, balding man with a nasty sneer.

He wandered the halls, and saw two more sets of wings along the way. The first belonged to a beautiful red-haired girl with huge, wide eyes. In any other situation, Dean would’ve started flirting in a heartbeat.

The second gave him pause. It was a younger man, very stern and rigid, with neat black hair. His eyes met Dean’s and the angel gave him a small, almost _flirtatious_ smile. Dean hesitated and took an uncertain step closer to the angel, but someone else approached him first, calling him “Michael.” Dean abruptly turned on his heel and kept looking. He almost considered asking someone for directions, posing as a servant or something.

When Dean finally found _his_ angel, he knew it.

The man was sitting in a windowsill, wings tucked behind him and chin resting on his knees. His wings looked a little stiffer than the other angels’, but hey, maybe they just matched his personality. He was always a bit uptight as a kid.

The angel had a thick book in his hands, which he seemed completely engrossed with, and a small smile on his lips.

He was decked out in the latest fashion, complete with flashy jewelry, makeup, and lace. His once wild hair was now neatly combed. He looked completely different, but, somehow, surprisingly, he was still the same creature.

After all, Dean had seen him in the same position a thousand times before.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. He didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until the angel’s head snapped up.

The eyes were the wrong color, but they flashed with recognition nonetheless. That, and…anger?

Shit.

The book slammed shut, and the angel rose to his feet in a movement so fast Dean’s eyes couldn’t follow it. The air crackled with static and his wings seemed to take up more space than before. Dean was rooted to the spot, staring at the angel with wide eyes.

Was it too late to go look for the pretty, red-headed angel?

Castiel had enough presence of mind to look around, make sure no one was around to see, before he marched over and slammed Dean into the wall, his forearm braced against the human's neck. The impact knocked all of the air of the human’s lungs.

“ _You,”_ Cas growled. Dean was gasping for breath and kind of freaking out under the angel’s wrath, but that didn’t keep him from noticing _that voice_. It must’ve dropped like, three octaves since they’d last spoken. “Why are _you._ _here?”_

“Come on, Cas. You don’t write, you don’t visit, what was I supposed to do?” Dean asked with a laugh, trying to shove away the fist that was now twisted in his shirt.

The angel smelled clean...sort of a synthetic smell. Pleasant, but kind of...fake.

“If I don’t _visit,_ ” the angel mocked, narrowing his brown—which definitely wasn’t right—eyes at Dean, “that’s because you said you _never wanted to see me again._ You made that quite clear, _Dean_.”

“Cas,” Dean choked out, because Castiel’s hand was definitely cutting off his air supply. The angel seemed to notice and let go of Dean. Okay. Cas didn’t want him dead, at least. That much was more than he deserved. “You know how I get when I’m angry—and I’d been drinking then, too.”

“ _Do not_ try to explain your words away, you _ass_. You had chances to apologize. You had _eighteen years_ to apologize. In that time, I have moved on,” Dean cringed, “and you are no longer a part of my life. I would like to keep it that way.” Cas turned to walk away.

“Dammit. Cas, wait,” Dean called. The angel froze, but he didn’t turn back to look at Dean. He just waited. “I _am_ actually here for a reason. Besides seeing your pretty face,” he chucked humorlessly. He angel let out a deep breath. “I get that you don’t want to talk to me, I don’t blame you, but I’m here to warn you.”

Castiel turned back to Dean, expression blank. “About?”

“You have to get out of Eden, Cas. It’s not going to be safe here soon.”

"What?"

"Come with me. We can leave the city together-- I'll take you back to Lawrence until this all blows over, Cas--"

“Don’t call me that,” Castiel corrected automatically. “And what are you talking about?”

“Lucifer is coming, _”_ Dean said, taking a few steps closer to the angel. Castiel narrowed his eyes. “He’s going to take on Eden, and then he’s going to try to take the rest of Earth. He’ll be stopped before he gets that far, but Eden _will_ fall.”

Castiel’s expression didn’t change, he just looked at Dean with those dead brown eyes. “You’re not serious, are you? Why should I believe _anything_ you have to say to me, Dean? The last time we spoke, you swore at me, told me you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again. I trusted you, I cared about you. And you hurt me. You ruined my home for me. Now you’re trying to take away this home as well,” the angel drew closer, so his face was only inches from Dean’s, “I won’t let you,” he growled.

“Wow,” Dean nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and taking a step backward, “I was right, then. This place _did_ change you. Am I not good enough for you anymore?"

"I never said that."

"But why should you trust me, right? I'm nobody. I don't have any titles or money, so clearly I don't know what I'm talking about. Nevermind that I'm your _best friend_ and we've known each other since we were  _toddlers._ What happened to all those promises, huh? Don't they mean anything? Congrats, Cas, you’re officially a mindless asshole, just like every other dick with wings in this fucking palace. Tell me something, huh? How long did it take you to do your hair this morning?”

“Dean.”

“Look at you, man! You’re wearing freaking _eye liner!_ Life used to _mean something_ to you, now you sit around all day on comfy cushions in a _costume,_ discussing the weather! How is that normal?!”

“Do not presume to know anything about me,” Cas said, expression still blank. His eyes flicked to something behind Dean. Dean turned to see a young angel turn into the hall, freezing when he saw Dean and Castiel. “Samandriel, if you aren't busy, would you please escort this man out of the palace?”

“Of course, Castiel,” Samandriel said, approaching Dean and wondering what the human could have possibly done to anger _Castiel._ The guy was all gentleness and soft smiles.

The human didn’t argue, just glared at Castiel before turning and storming away angrily.

 

_"Dean,” Cas began, approaching the huddled figure. They were in the middle of a small grove, a place sacred to them and them alone. It was their refuge, their escape from the real world. “What are you doing out here this late? Everyone’s worried—your mother is in a panic, your father—“_

_"Three days, huh?”_

_Castiel stilled. “Who told you?”_

_“Sam let it slip. Did everyone know but me, then?” Dean turned to look up at Cas. He couldn’t be sure in the dim lighting, but it almost looked like the boy had been crying._

_With a sigh, Cas sat beside him. “I just found out this morning. You know I don’t want to go, Dean.”_

_“Then don’t.”_

_“I can’t just refuse—“_

_“Why not?” Dean whined._

_“Because he’s the King. And he wants me to take my father’s place and I don’t have a choice.”_

_Dean leaned heavily against Castiel’s shoulder, hiccupping._

_“You’ve been drinking,” Cas observed._

_“No fucking shit.”_

_“Come with me,” Cas said suddenly._

_“What?” Dean asked, pushing himself off Castiel’s shoulder and blinking at the angel._

_“Come with me to Eden, Dean,” Cas repeated, getting excited now. “We could stay together, and you could live with me—“_

_"Don't be stupid, Cas. No way."_

_"Dean."_

_Dean refused to look at him._

_"Dean, I do everything you ask. I always come when you call. And I am your closest friend. Still, despite your lack of faith in me and now your insults, I still want you by my side. All I ask is this one thing."_

_“You want me to come to Eden with you? Doing what? Being your little mistress, Cas? There’s no room for me in that life. You know that’s how those stupid court people work, right? They don’t do anything except sleep, eat, gossip, and fuck. That’s where you’re going, and that’s where you want me to go, too? Oh, and what am I supposed to do, just abandon my family? Don’t be an idiot, Cas.”_

_“I was trying to offer a solution, Dean.” Castiel’s voice hardened._

_“Yeah, well don’t,” Dean spat, standing up. “Because there’s already a solution, you’re just too much of a coward to see it. Say no. Stay here. Don’t leave me,” the last sentence was quiet and broken._

_“If I do that,” Castiel stood up too, “my mother would have nothing. She’s under the King’s protection now, but if I turn down his offer, We. Will. Have. Nothing. Do you understand that, Dean? Your parents are lucky to both have solid incomes, a good home. We don't have that. My grandmother is ill. Our house isn’t our house. My mother has no marketable skills, neither do I, for that matter, and then I have three younger cousins to care for on top of that. I won’t condemn my entire family to misery just so that I can be happy, Dean.”_

_“Fine,” Dean said. “But if you go, that’s fucking it. Because going there, with those people, that’s going to turn you into something you’re not, Cas. You’re going to turn into a monster. You’re going to get fat and greedy and heartless, and I’m not gonna associate with someone like that. So don’t try to contact me. Don’t write to me or send me messages. If you come and visit, don’t try to see me. I don’t want to have anything to do with any bloodsucking, angelic nobles.”_

 

Castiel cringed at the memory. Yes, he’d been harsh to Dean earlier that day, but he’d been justified in doing so, right?

Even so, he'd behaved foolishly. For the first time in fifteen years, Castiel had lost control, all because Dean showed up from out of nowhere and caught him off-guard. If anyone had seen him, if Samandriel had showed up even a minute sooner, had seen him in his wrath...

“So, Clarence, are you going to tell me who pretty boy was yesterday?” Meg asked, sipping innocently at her drink.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Cas replied, not looking her way.

“I think she’s talking about the guy that made you get up and flee the place like a little kid caught with his parent’s alcohol,” Ash supplied.

Everyone turned to give Ash a look.

“Just me?” he asked.

Jo laughed, turning back to Cas. “But really, Angel, I’ve never seen you look so terrified. And I’ve seen you in some pretty messed up situations.”

“He was nobody,” Cas said flatly. “Why don’t you all just mind your own business?”

“Because your business is our business, blue eyes,” Meg said in her annoyingly calm manner. “Just tell me this: is this guy going to cause a problem?”

“No,” Cas shook his head, “I don’t think he’ll even recognize me.”

“Oh, so he’s someone who knows you?” Meg perked up.

Cas cursed internally. “I…yes. But if you ask him any questions, you’re fired, Meg.”

“You would never fire me,” she smiled sweetly, “you’re too sweet on me, Clarence. But don’t worry, I’ll give you your privacy. And you _have_ to talk to him tonight, you know. His thing seemed pretty serious.”

“What did he say?”

“First of all, he’s a hunter,” Meg rolled her eyes. Hunters were members of a fairly secret organization—they fought to protect Earth from harmful supernatural forces, including demons. Jo, Ellen, and Ash were all retired hunters, though they—including Cas and Meg—worked with the organization often. “So after you left, it took Jo and Ellen ten minutes to convince him I’m a friendly. But he said something about Lucifer and a rebellion and Eden. Oh yeah, and something about everyone in the city falling to demon control.”

“Send him upstairs when he shows up,” Cas sighed.

He’d known the second Dean mentioned Lucifer that he was going to have to hear Dean out. So much for ignoring the problem and letting it fade back out of his life.

Cas spent a few minutes rearranging the furniture in the office. He moved the desk to the corner and angled it, setting a chair across from it, but a good distance away. He opened the blinds so the light from the street flooded in, but then he blew out the two oil lamps in the room.

Satisfied, he sat back and surveyed his work. The room was light enough to see, but the corner with the desk was plunged into darkness.

Cas hopped over the desk and settled into the seat, shaking out his wings and bringing them to the physical plane. For good measure, he pulled a black mask out of his pocket and put it on. It covered the top half of his face, revealing only his eyes and lips. He wasn’t going to let Dean ruin what he had here, Lucifer or no Lucifer.

Then he waited.

 

It wasn’t long before a knock came at the door. Meg peered in, snorting when she saw the rearranged furniture. “That’s a sweet set up you’re rocking there, Angel. Dean Winchester’s here.”

“Send him in.”

Castiel tried lowering his voice further to disguise it. He briefly considered using an accent, but decided that might be overkill.

Dean came in a second later, eyes widening when he saw Castiel’s wings taking up half the room. Castiel was trying to appear intimidating, despite the bundle of nerves knotting up his stomach.

The hunter, Cas was surprised to note, looked exhausted. More so than he had when they’d met that morning. He looked worn and haggard, and though he did a good job hiding it, Dean was still Castiel’s oldest friend. There wasn’t much the human could hide from him.

The angel felt another twinge of guilt at his callous treatment of Dean that morning.

Dean let out a low whistle and took the seat across from the desk. “So is this how you do things? Not very intimate, is it?”

“My entire operation depends on secrecy and mystery. It would be counter-effective to show you my face.”

“Kinky,” the hunter smirked. His green eyes were drawn to the wings again. “Why black? I thought angel’s wings were supposed to be white.”

“It’s rumored that Lucifer’s wings are red as blood,” Cas murmured. “Gabriel's are brown with gold speckles. They way an angel’s wings manifest is seemingly random—size, shape, color. This is just how my wings decided they want to look,” he shrugged, then realized Dean couldn’t see the gesture.

The hunter smiled.

“Is something humorous?”

“Nah, for a second you just reminded me of—never mind," Dean said, expression darkening, "It’s nothing.”

Cas realized something. "You think it's wise to turn up to a meeting with one of the most dangerous individuals in Eden drunk?"

"Wise? Probably not. But I'm only a little drunk, and I've had a really tough day, okay? Give a guy a break."

Cas raised an eyebrow, fairly certain he knew why Dean had a rough day. And it made _him_ feel guilty for lashing out that morning. He frowned and cleared his throat. “Mr. Winchester, I was under the impression that you had information—“

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I don’t know how much Meg told you, and I don’t know how much you already know about Hell’s politics, but I guess I’ll just start from the beginning, yeah? So we’ve known Lucifer was in Hell for a while, right? He’s been there since the king banished him. But we all thought he was just…I don’t know, _sulking._ Yeah, well, turns out he was gathering an army. A damn big one, too. Right now, all of hell is divided into two factions: Lucifer’s side, and King Crowley’s side. But a few days ago, Crowley was forced into hiding. Now, Crowley’s a dick, but he’s a dick that minds his own business, so we let him be.

“And now Lucifer’s taking his disappearance as an opportunity to move on his real goal: Earth. He started marching his army in this direction two days ago, and all signs point at him coming straight for Eden.”

Cas was free to admire Dean while the human spoke. He’d always been attractive, but he really _had_ aged well. He was beautiful and passionate…and Cas should really be focusing more on what he was saying.

“He wants to kill the King,” Cas guessed.

“Among other things.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I was stationed at the border. Several of our runners all came in with the same information.”

“How long until Lucifer arrives?”

“A week. Maybe longer. He was on the other side of Hell, last I heard, and he's taking his sweet time with it.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, whatever you can do. According to the stories, you kinda run this town, dude. Plus, we have to get the King out of Eden before Lucifer hits, that much is obvious, but I don’t have the proof or credentials to even get an audience.”

“I do. I’ll need to talk to Michael, too,” Cas said, thinking out loud, “he’s the Commander in Chief of the entire army, and Lucifer’s twin brother. You’ll have to come with, of course.”

“Wait, like,  _now?_ ” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. Castiel stepped out of the shadows—praying to whoever was listening that Dean wouldn’t recognize him—and smirked down at the hunter.

“I’d say this is an issue that requires a sense of urgency, wouldn’t you?”

“Fair enough,” Dean shrugged, “Lead the way, angel boy.”

Castiel put his wings away, heading down into the Roadhouse.

“So do you have a name, or what?” Dean asked from behind him.

“I do, but I’m not telling you what it is.”

Dean laughed. “Secrecy. Right.”

 

To her credit, Meg didn’t even blink when she saw Castiel’s mask. “Is there a problem, Clarence?”

“Clarence? _Really?_ Your name is _Clarence?”_

“No,” Castiel frowned, “That’s just what Meg decided to call me.”

“Got it. Can I choose a name for you too, then? You look kind of like a…Jimmy. Cool if I call you Jimmy?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, tilting his head curiously, and for a brief second, he thought he saw recognition flash across Dean’s face, quickly followed by something—what was it? Regret? Disappoinment? Irritation, maybe? The expression, whatever it was, was quickly replaced by the customary smirk.

“Meg, cancel the rest of tonight’s meetings. Give everyone my apologies, but something much more important has come up.”

“I’m sure it has,” she smirked, giving Dean a dirty wink.

Fortunately, the mask hid Castiel’s blush.

“Come on,” he grumbled to Dean, leading the way into the basement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel-- as the vigilante of Eden-- and Dean visit the castle at night to inform King Chuck of Lucifer's plans.

Dean watched the Angel look around the basement casually.

“Against my better judgment, I’m about to share a secret with you, Dean” the Angel said, his icy blue eyes finally meeting the hunter’s. The vigilante’s voice was low and rough, much like Castiel’s had been. Maybe it was just an angel thing, to have ridiculously sexy voices or something.

“From a basement?” Dean asked skeptically, looking around.

“No. From even further underground.”

Eden’s vigilante bent over a sewage hole, lifting the heavy cover and shoving it aside. When the angel stepped away from the hole with a smirk, Dean leaned over it and looked down, gagging at the smell that rose up to meet him.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, covering his nose.

“Well, I don’t know about _holy…”_ the angel trailed off with a smile. If Dean wasn’t busy trying to keep down his dinner, he might have laughed.

“No way I’m going down there.”

“No, you’re right, Dean. Let’s just march up to the palace—a hunter and a wanted criminal—and ask to see the king. I’m sure the guards will readily comply.” Somehow the angel managed to convey a you-must-be-joking look even with a black mask covering most of his face.

“Shut up. Fine—you go down first, though.”

“Fine,” the angel shrugged, jumping into the hole.

Dean heard the flap of wings, but couldn’t see anything that was happening beneath him.

“I would recommend you start with the ladder,” a sarcastic voice drifted up from the darkness.

Dean snorted, finding the ladder in question and lowering himself down into the sewer. When he hit the ground, he found himself up to his ankles in an unknown liquid.

“Oh, are you _fucking—_ this is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.”

“Stop whining,” the voice came from only a few inches right of him, making him jump a little.

“You can fly. I’d like to see _you_  not whine if you had to walk in shit.”

“Come on,” the angel said, putting a hand on Dean’s arm. Dean turned toward the voice, seeing a pair of faintly glowing blue eyes staring back at him. If he squinted, he could see the angel’s silhouette, massive wings and all.

“Uh…” he croaked, looking down to where he felt the angel’s hand still on his arm, “yeah.”

Was he having a moment in a freaking sewer? He’d flirted in some truly inappropriate places before, but this definitely was a new low.

He followed after the angel, down a seemingly endless tunnel.

He shouldn’t be having _moments_ with anyone, he silently chastised himself. Castiel—his Castiel, the goddamn long-lost love of his life, was somewhere in this very city, under the same stars as him for the first time in fifteen years. He’d come to warn the city about Lucifer, sure, but now that he’d seen Cas again he wasn’t going to let go so easily.

In over thirty years of living, nothing he’d done had ever brought him _close_ to the regret he felt over letting Castiel go. He’d thought it over a million times. He could have moved to Eden with Cas. He should have. He shouldn’t have let his fears and abandonment issues stop him.

And now Cas wasn’t even Cas anymore. He saw a  _spark_ of the old Cas that morning. He was sure his Castiel was in there somewhere, he just had to dig.

But then, on top of all the doubt, a sexy, mysterious, blue-eyed angel had to drop into his life to fuck things up _even more._ And he'd known this guy for what, all of twenty minutes?

“These are my only boots,” he complained to take his mind off things.

“I’ll buy you a new pair if it means you’ll stop complaining,” the angel promised.

“Deal,” Dean chuckled.

"So is this how you get around? The mysterious vigilante, flying through the sewers," Dean laughed.

"People tend to overlook the sewage system."

"Huh. Don't you come out smelling like, you know, shit?"

"I can extend a portion of my grace to...keep the refuse off me," the Angel said, sounding a bit sheepish.

"Sweet. Any chance you can do that for me, too?"

The angel chuckled.

“Are we almost there?” Dean asked a few minutes later, unable to stay quiet.

“It _does_ seem to go faster when I don’t have to slow down for loud-mouthed humans,” the angel agreed. Dean couldn’t see his face, but he thought he heard a trace of fondness in the voice.

“Har har. So is that a yes?”

He suddenly walked into a wall of feathers. Dean took a step back, spitting a feather out of his mouth. “What the hell, dude?”

“This is it.”

The angel flew up, shoving the cover off another manhole. A small square of pale blue light appeared on the otherwise black ceiling.

“You going to fit through that?” Dean asked.

The angel grabbed onto the ladder, and a moment later, his wings disappeared- just completely vanished. He climbed up through the whole, leaving Dean to follow him. “Guess so.”

 

Castiel dusted some dirt off his trousers and looked around while he waited for Dean to climb up behind him.

Dean. His Dean. Easy as it was to fall back into their old banter, Castiel thought he might still be in shock. Or maybe he’d just imagined this entire thing, he’d finally had a mental breakdown and was locked up somewhere. It would make more sense than Dean being here, by his side once more.

“Where are we?” Dean asked, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily.

“You’re a hunter. Aren’t you supposed to be in good shape?” Cas asked, moving to look down a nearby hallway.

Dean shot him a wolfish grin. “I’m in great shape. I can _prove_ it, if you want,” he smirked, winking at Castiel. “But don’t you smell that, dude? Fresh air. I’ve never noticed how awesome fresh air is before.”

“I smell _something,_ ” Cas gave Dean a pointed look.

“Hey! Are you saying I smell?”

“That is what I was implying, yes. You _do_ have what appears to be human bodily waste all over your boots.”

“Well if I do, it’s your fault. And you never answered my question.”

“We’re in the palace washrooms, I think,” Cas said, motioning for Dean to follow him.

“You _think?_ You don’t know?”

“I’m not familiar with this corner of the castle,” Cas paused at the end of the hallway, looking around before leading Dean up a dark staircase. He didn’t like being in the castle as the vigilante. Normally, his two lives seemed worlds apart. But this was mixing his two lives together, and it was blurring lines that _should_ be clearly defined.

And now he was going to have to talk to Michael. He could only hope that the mask paired with Michael's disinterest with Cas would work in his favor.

"But you’re familiar with the rest of it? And what’s the plan here, exactly?”

“We talk to the King.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah. Thanks, genius.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

The sound of Dean laughing again came from close behind him, bringing an involuntary smile to his lips.

“I _meant—_ what are we going to do, break into the King’s bedroom, say ‘sorry, I get that you’re in your pajamas and all, and it’s the middle of the night, but just so you know—Lucifer’s on his way here to kill you.’ I mean, I’m all for rushing into things—“

“I know you are.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“O-kay? Anyways, I’m usually all for rushing into things, but this seems a little drastic.”

“The King, I’ve discovered recently, supports my work. When we explain the situation, he will understand our trespassing. The rest of the castle? Not so much, so _keep your voice down_. If we’re caught, I don’t know about you, but I’ll be killed on sight.”

Dean cringed apologetically.

“The King’s chambers are down this way.”

Castiel prowled down the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out exactly where they were. They were on the right floor, he was sure, but he didn’t know if they were in the east wing or the west wing. They stopped as the hallway ended in a T.

“Right or left?” Dean asked from behind him.

“Right?”

“Where would we be without your guidance?” Dean snorted.

Before Cas could respond, Dean’s eyes widened and he grabbed a handful of feathers, using it to pull Cas back into the hallway they were coming from. Castiel gasped as a jarring shock of electricity shot down his wing and through his entire body, and his body went limp, yielding to Dean’s pull.

Dean pushed the angel into a dark, shadowy corner, pressing a hand over his mouth. A whimper slipped past Castiel’s lips, his body revolting at the feel of a hand tangled in his wing and a warm body pressed against his own.

“Shhh,” the hunter breathed. The vigilante silently glared at Dean, fighting to think past Dean’s hypnotic scent and his lips, which were only a hair’s breadth away, but then he heard what Dean’s ears must have picked up on: two male voices, steadily getting louder.

Cas shook his wing free, wrapping them tightly around both human and hunter to let them melt further into the shadowy corner. Hopefully, if whoever was approaching passed their way, as long as they didn't look too closely at the shadows, nothing would look amiss.

Dean and Castiel listened as the voices grew closer, barely daring to breathe when the voices were practically on top of them. Castiel’s black wings saved them from being seen, but they unfortunately also prevented them from being able to see. The darkness only heightened the sensations Castiel was trying not to think about—the hard line of Dean’s body pressed tightly against his own, muscles tense as he strained to hear, the warm ghosting of Dean’s breath against his ear, the muggy thickness in the air that the tight, enclosed space created.

Cas lifted his head and leaned forward, his lips brushing against Dean’s ear. “Does it sound like they’re gone?” he breathed, barely making any sound.

A shudder wracked through Dean’s body and he nodded, the light stubble on his jaw grazing Castiel’s lips.  

Reluctantly, Cas pulled his wings back so Dean could escape their embrace. Dean stood, so their bodies were no longer pressed together, but didn’t step back, instead studying Castiel’s lips with a guilty expression.

The green eyes flicked to Castiel’s wings. “Sorry,” he said, unthinkingly reaching out to smooth the twisted feathers. Castiel hissed, wings twitching away from Dean’s hand. “Shit. Sorry,” he said again, yanking his head back like he’d been stung.

“No, that’s—it…that doesn’t _hurt_ ,” Cas said, lowering his head and looking up at Dean, lips pressing together in a firm line.

“Oh,” Dean said, a little confused. His eyes lit up with understanding. “ _Oh._ Seriously?” he laughed.

“Don’t laugh,” Cas frowned. “I don’t see how it’s funny.”

“Naw, man, it’s just…unexpected. Is that an, um, _erogenous zone_ for all angels, or just you?” Dean snickered.

Cas turned to glare at him. “There are a lot of nerve endings in the underside of our wings, Dean.”

“Sure, sure,” Dean said easily, following when Cas stormed off in what he hoped was the direction of the King’s chambers.

 

“Chuck. Chuck? _Chuck._ Chuck!”

“Huh?” Chuck woke up with a start, arms flailing wildly, to find Becky’s face inches from his own. “ _What?_ What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but there was a knock on our door and now it sounds like two people are arguing outside it,” Becky whispered loudly.

“If they need anything, they’ll knock again,” Chuck grumbled, turning over to go back to sleep.

“ _Or,”_ Becky hissed, “they’re assassins and they’re arguing about how to kill us!”

“I won’t let anyone assassinate you, Becky.”

“Then get up and do something!”

" _Fine_ ,” he conceded after Becky’s fifth time poking him in the side.

He got up, fumbling around in the darkness. He found something long and somewhat weapon-shaped and hid behind the door. Sure enough, he heard two low voices bickering just outside it.

“If you’re planning on hanging around,” Becky called, rather bravely, “you might as well come in!”

The door swung open, and when the first figure took a cautious step forward, Chuck stepped out of his hiding place and swung.

He didn’t expect a hand to be able to shoot out and catch the weapon mid-swing.

Then he noticed the massive black wings and narrowed his eyes. “Ca— _hnngh.”_ The other hand, the one not gripping the weapon, covered Chuck’s mouth.

“Hello, Chuck,” the familiar gravelly voice said.

When Chuck nodded in understanding, Castiel removed his hand from the King’s mouth.

"Hey, sorry about the guards, um…your highness,” a man behind Castiel said.

Chuck peered around the two intruders, seeing his night guards lying on the ground.

“Oh my God,” Chuck ran his hands through his hair, “did you kill them?”

“They’re unconscious,” Castiel said. “Apologies.” The man behind him chuckled.

“ _Wow_ ,” Becky was suddenly squealing, climbing out of bed. Her attire reminded Chuck that he was still in his dressing gown, and he felt a blush spread to his cheeks. Becky rushed over to Castiel, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I knew it. Chuck told me, of course, _vigilante,”_ she winked, “I am a _huge_ fan. You have no idea.”

“Um,” the angel said, extricating his hand from the Queen’s grip, “thank you.”

“Okay, hold on,” Chuck began, squinting at Castiel, “Why did the Vigilante and—uh, sorry?”

"Dean,” the other man supplied, offering Chuck his hand.

“Ah. Nice to meet you. Wait, no, it’s not—why did you two break into my room in the middle of the night?”

“We have news, highness, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Dean said.

“Oh. Okay,” Chuck clutched at his head, “Okay. Just…let me change, and maybe we can move this elsewhere?”

“Michael should also be present for this,” Castiel said. Chuck glanced at Castiel’s wings.

“Michael?” Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. Castiel was never keen on Michael, and Cas knew Michael sure as hell wasn't keen on the Vigilante. “Well this really can’t be good.”

             

Becky fetched several guards—one to prepare the King’s study, one to wake Michael, and two to take care of the unfortunate guards Dean knocked unconscious.

Michael met them in the King’s study, looking sleepier and more disheveled than Castiel had ever seen him. When he saw Cas, however, he leapt, tackling the vigilante to the ground. It took the combined efforts of Dean, Chuck, and four guards to tear the two angels apart. Castiel almost lost his mask in the scuffle, and Michael lost a handful of feathers.

When things had settled, Michael stood glaring at Castiel, held back by Chuck. The archangel’s white wings arched high above his head threateningly, the feathers standing on end to make them look even larger.

Castiel’s position mirrored Michael’s, though he was held back by Dean’s hand gently resting on his shoulder rather than the King’s entire weight thrown into keeping him still. While Cas wasn’t an archangel, his wings were just as large, if not larger than Michael’s, and their pure, inky blackness definitely made them more intimidating.

“Michael, let me explain,” Chuck said, pulling the archangel to face him. The King lowered his voice, but Dean and Cas caught phrases like “on our side” and “appreciate it if you would support me.”

“I was holding back,” Castiel muttered to Dean while Chuck calmed Michael.

“I’m sure you were,” Dean laughed.

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Cas smiled.

“Uh-huh.”

Michael turned back to them, reluctantly offering Castiel his hand. “It’s… _interesting_ to finally meet you in person.”

Castiel shook Michael’s hand firmly.

Cas worked hard to create two opposite identities. When he was the vigilante, he consciously altered his mannerisms to be less Castiel-like, and vise versa. It wasn’t difficult. As Castiel, he was careful to remain timid and gentle at all times. It was easy for him to switch to the other extreme as the Angel of Darkness.

Still, he held his breath as the other angel sized him up, only relaxing when the archangel turned to Dean. If Michael hadn’t recognized him right away, Castiel wasn’t worried that he would now.  “You were in the palace earlier today, weren’t you?”

Everyone’s attention turned to Dean, and the human fidgeted nervously. “I, uh, yeah. I was trying to see the King, but no one would let me. I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” Michael repeated, looking the human up and down. It was a very different look from the one he gave Castiel. “I’m Michael.”

“Dean brings news,” Castiel interjected, “Michael, it involves your brother.”

Michael’s attention snapped back over to Castiel, as did Chuck’s.

“And what have _you_ got to do with this? You’re a vigilante, a criminal.”

Castiel squared his jaw, his eyes not leaving Michael’s. “Dean’s news concerns all of us. Like it or not, Michael, this is as much my city as it is yours. Perhaps even more so.”

“Okay,” Dean interjected before Michael could respond, clapping his hands together and chuckling nervously. Chuck sent him a relieved glance. “Maybe we should sit down before we get this party started?”

Castiel sat beside Dean, shifting his wings and trying not to look as awkward as he felt. He’d never been in the King’s study before—Castiel usually wasn’t welcomed in the King’s business meetings. He was a part of the court for decoration, really.

Also, the room was brightly lit, giving him very little cover. It made him feel exposed. And sitting next to Dean didn’t help him relax.

“Alright, Dean. Tell us what you know.”

Dean told Michael and Chuck everything he’d told Castiel earlier.

“When you say Lucifer is coming with an army,” Michael began when he’d finished, leaning forward intently, “how many?”

His interest in Dean’s report seemed to dissipate any antipathy he still felt for the vigilante. For now.

“If the reports are to be believed, about four hundred demons, which is, you know, _huge_ for a demon army. He’s counting on the element of surprise, though, and—“

“And he’s an arrogant dick,” Michael provided.

“That about covers it,” Dean chuckled, smirking at Michael.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t flirting, was it? He didn’t even know Michael _experienced_ sexual attraction, but the way the angel was looking at Dean left an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a twist in his gut. He cleared his throat, tearing Michael’s attention from Dean.

"We're lucky to have you, Dean," Michael said, giving him a warm smile that looked horribly out of place on Michael's usually stern face. And it was, to Castiel's chagrin, charming. "Thank you."

 _That_ was definitely flirting. Castiel's wings flared out possessively around the back of the couch, the long black feathers around the top standing on end. Chuck and Dean, if they noticed, didn't understand what the gesture meant, but Michael raised an eyebrow at Castiel's claim, a predatory smile on his lips.

"Just doing my job," Dean shrugged, completely oblivious to the power struggle between the two angels. 

“How many do we have in the city guard?” Chuck asked.

“One hundred, two hundred,” Michael guessed with a frown. “But they’re all human. And more used to breaking up quarrels in the market than fighting off _demons.”_

“But we’ve also got angels. And we have the advantage with our defenses, right?”

Michael nodded. "I don't think our situation is hopeless, at least. But I can't promise that we won't experience great losses."

“Shit,” Chuck said, scratching at his beard. “So, what do we do?”

“First thing’s first, we have to get you out of the city.”

“What? I’m not leaving.”

“With all due respect, your highness,” Cas interjected, leaning forward, “Lucifer is coming here to kill _you._ He has a penchant for revenge, as I’m sure you’re aware, so you have to know that you’re the first person he will come after if he takes control of Eden.”

“Not that we’ll let it get that far,” Michael growled.

"Of course,” Castiel nodded. “But it’s wise to be safe, nonetheless.”

“I agree,” Michael marveled, his expression suggesting he was shocked such a thing was even possible.

“They’re right, your highness. Sioux Falls is a day’s ride from here, and the hunter’s organization is based there. It’ll be safe, and I have friends you can stay with until we get rid of Lucifer and his demons.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean shrugged, “but if you die, what happens to the rest of the country? You’re not being a coward by leaving, you’re thinking of your people.”

“If you put it that way, I guess…I guess I have to agree,” Chuck sighed.

“Awesome.”

“You’ll leave tomorrow, then,” Michael decided.

“It may be wise to sneak him out,” Cas said. “Lucifer must have spies in the city—most likely, in this castle. It would be best if nobody sees him leave.”

“Good idea,” Michael nodded, watching Castiel with a sliver more respect.

“Do you know how to smuggle him out?” Dean asked Cas, “He’s going to need guards, too.”

Cas nodded. “Keep the party small, though.”

“We can send two angels with you,” Michael offered.

“I’ll send two of my men as well,” Cas added. Michael looked as if he was about to argue. “They’re trustworthy, and good fighters.”

“No,” Chuck shook his head, “no angels. We need everyone we can get for the fight.”

“Samandriel?” Cas asked Michael, ignoring Chuck, “He’s inexperienced in large-scale battles, but he’s skilled at one-on-one combat.”

“How do you know that?” Michael asked.

“It’s my job to know things,” Castiel shrugged.

Dean shifted in his seat, looking like he wanted to say something.

“Samandriel and Castiel?” Michael asked Chuck. “They’re the most inexperienced among us—“ Cas frowned, “—but they’re still perfectly capable of protecting you.”

“That sounds like a _great_ idea,” Dean offered.

That bastard.

“Castiel?” Chuck squeaked, throwing a nervous look in Castiel’s direction. “I don’t know, maybe I only need one angel.”

“But you want Becky to come, too, I’m guessing?” Dean pushed, “A personal guard of four seems pretty measly for both the King and Queen.”

“My men are just as tough as angels, and a larger party will only attract attention,” Castiel argued.

“We’ll leave the city in two groups,” Dean shrugged, “meet up down the road. The larger party will be worth the risk if it means the King and Queen are safer.”

Michael nodded his agreement.

“We?” Castiel clarified. He narrowed his eyes at Dean, trying to figure out what game the hunter was playing.

“If I ride with to Sioux Falls, I can come back to Eden with a hundred seasoned hunters.”

Michael smiled. “You can guarantee this?”

“One hundred is the _minimum,”_ Dean nodded.

"Impressive," Michael smiled.

“What do you think about the two angel escort thing?” Chuck asked, eyeing Castiel.

Cas sighed. “If this _Cassiel_ won’t be missed, then—“

“Castiel,” Dean corrected harshly. Cas, Michael, and Chuck all turned to look at him. “Uh,” Dean coughed, “It’s Castiel.”

“If _Castiel_ won’t be missed, then it might be a good idea.”

He would just have to double back and return with Dean's hunters.

“Great,” Dean beamed, “I’m glad we have all that decided. But can we maybe talk about strategy or something?”

 

“Dude, can we take the normal way back?” Dean whined, “If I have to subject my boots to that again, I’m pretty sure it’ll soak through to my socks, and no way I’m going anywhere with shitty socks.”

“I can’t just walk down the street—“

“Put the wings away and you’ll be fine. Seriously.”

Cas frowned, but decided to let Dean lead the way. He tucked his wings away, walking by his human’s side.

“It might help if you lost the mask.”

“I’m not going to ‘lose the mask.’”

“Suit yourself. I think that went well,” Dean was saying. “It’s nice to know Michael thinks we have a chance—“

“Right. Michael,” Cas growled.

“You okay there, pal?”

“I don't like Michael. He’s…he’s an assbutt.”

Meg would be ashamed of that one.

Dean laughed. “They’re all assbutts up in the palace, dude. Every last one of ‘em.”

“He was flirting with you, you realize.”

“Yeah. 'Course I realize. And you sound mighty jealous for someone who won’t even tell me his name.”

Castiel glanced sharply at Dean, but saw no trace of annoyance in Dean’s features. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him into a side alley.

Dean stumbled a little, watching Cas with wide eyes.

Cas pressed the human to the wall much like he had that morning. This time, however, there was an entirely different current circulating between their bodies.

Dean only had time to gasp before Castiel’s lips were on his with a hungry desperation, pinning him against the wall. It took Dean two seconds to begin kissing Castiel back, licking into the angel’s mouth and twisting his hands into Castiel’s hair with a loud moan.

This was something Castiel had dreamed about doing—if he was honest with himself—his entire life. Even here in Eden, he’d occasionally find himself thinking about Dean's full, pink lips. And, if he admitted it to himself, he’d always known his life would lead him here—to this wild and indescribable human with the glowing soul that made Castiel want to risk everything, to give up everything, just to keep him near.

The hunter tasted bitter and sweet all at once, perfect yet beautifully flawed. Broken and pure. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Castiel, hands running up and down his back—one stopping at his shoulder blades, the other tightly gripping his ass, pulling him closer, and Cas decided this was a heat he never wanted to be without ever again, no matter what he had to lose in order to get it.

All too quickly, Dean shoved him away, looking deliciously dazed and confused. He half-blinked at Castiel, mouth hanging slightly open. “I…uh, not that I’m complaining, really, but what was that for?” he asked.

“I was curious,” Castiel answered truthfully, head tilting to the side.

“Oh. Well, um, I’m flattered, really, but I…” Dean walked backward, almost falling over a garbage can. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” The human’s eyes were wide and wild.

“There's someone else?” Castiel asked, unable to help himself.

“Yes,” Dean breathed. “Sorry.”

“I understand.” Cas gave him a gentle smile. Dean _wasn’t_ referring to him. He _couldn’t_ be—they hadn’t seen each other for fifteen years. In that time, Dean had probably found someone else, while they were apart. Someone perfect for him, someone that could fit his every need. Someone that wasn’t Castiel. “I probably will not see you until you return from Sioux Falls, Dean Winchester. Have a safe trip.”

“You too.” Dean cringed. “I mean, uh…you know what I mean. G’night.”

“Goodnight.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, Dean, Ash, Victor, and Samandriel escort the King and Queen to Sioux Falls. Complications arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little longer than previous ones...I make no apologies. :)  
> Although fair warning, this chapter DOES have a little bit of descriptive violence...just so you're aware ahead of time.

The Roadhouse was closed for the night by the time Castiel finally made it back.

“How was your date?” Meg teased when she spotted the weary angel.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ellen asked Meg from behind the bar, raising an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t a date,” Cas sighed, “although I’m offended you would automatically assume Meg was joking, Ellen.”

“It might as well have been a date,” Meg beamed, “Clarence was so nervous. It was cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Castiel growled, tearing the itchy mask off. “And if I was nervous, it was only because Dean poses a threat to me.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to be able to sleep at night,” Meg put her hands on her chin, blinking up at Castiel with a teasing smile.

Cas squinted at her. “I _don’t_ sleep at night.”

“No kidding."

“Dean knows too much about me, and his presence here compromises my entire life.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad. If my true identity is revealed to the wrong people, I could face execution, imprisonment, or exile.”

“You and Lucifer could be bunk buddies.”

Cas shot the demon a withering look.

“Leave the poor angel alone, Meg,” Jo laughed, joining them and grabbing the seat next to Meg.

“So how do you know this _Dean_?” Ellen asked. “He’s got to be pretty bad if he’s got _you_ worked up like this.

Cas shook his head. “It isn’t like that…we grew up together. This was before I came to Eden. We were best friends.”

“Childhood sweethearts, you mean?”

“No,” Castiel blushed.

“Oh my God. Meg’s right!” Jo gaped, grinning.

“No, he never—I mean, we never—it was never—“

“But you wanted it to be?”

Cas scowled at them both, looking to Ellen for help. She just shrugged with a ‘what-are-you-going-to-do’ expression.

“I _was_ going to tell you what happened tonight, but now I think I’m beginning to reconsider.”

“Don’t be like that, Clarence.”

“Fun time’s over, girls. Ash!” Ellen shouted.

“Yeah!” Ash shouted from across the bar, shooting up from where he’d been napping on a table. “Closing time?”

“We closed an hour ago, idiot. Angel’s got something to tell us, so get your lazy ass over here.”

Ash flipped his hair indignantly, but moved to do as Ellen commanded.

“So are we all going to die under Lucifer’s fiery wrath, Clarence?" Meg prompted.

Castiel looked around at them. At his strange, twisted family. Always trusting and caring, despite their teasing and despite Castiel never giving them a reason to trust him. These humans—even the demon—were beautiful. They were works of art, and Castiel was lucky to have them.

“My name is Castiel,” he found himself saying.

"Your name?" Jo clarified, "Like, your  _name_ name?"

“Huh,” Meg said after a minute of looking him up and down thoughtfully, “Suits you.”

“Castiel,” Jo repeated, testing the name on her lips.

“Now why does that sound so familiar?” Ash asked, squinting up at the ceiling.

“The King’s angels,” Cas said.

“That’s it! There’s that younger angel in the court named Castiel…Wait. Damn, really?”

“Is that the pretty one?” Jo asked, leaning lazily against the bar.

“Nah, Anna’s the pretty one,” Meg winked.

“Oh my God, no, I'm right! Castiel totally _is_ the pretty one!” Jo squealed, pointing at Cas excitedly. “Look! Picture him with like, brown eyes, white wings, and normal hair!”

“Holy shit,” Meg laughed.

“I finally tell you who I am and you _laugh_ ,” Cas said, bemused.

“That’s because _you_ are a member of the courts. _You._ I mean, doesn’t that job require _some_ sort of social skills or something? And some charm?”

“Yeah, no offense,” Jo added. “You’re just really…um, stern?”

“I think she meant freaky,” Ash joked.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something but shut it with a frown, instead glaring across the room.

“I think you hurt his feelings.”

“It’s funny, Castiel,” Ellen began, “I must’ve seen you with the court a dozen times, but I never even noticed…I mean, I never even guessed…”

“The last place anyone ever looks is under their own feet,” Cas agreed with a small smile, “and I enjoy it because it allows me to make changes from both within the system and without.”

“Not that this isn’t fascinating, Clarence, and it is—really, I’m not just being sarcastic—but, uh….Lucifer? What’s the deal with that?”

Castiel explained the situation to them and went over everything that had happened that night. Well…everything except the last bit with Dean.

“And I sort of…told Michael that two of my people would help protect the King.”

“We’re your people now?” Jo asked, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

“Probably a little of both,” Meg muttered.

“Jo, I think you should go,” Ellen suggested. “You’re always whining about how you wanted to help, and this way you can—but it’ll still be safer than being here when Lucifer hits us.”

“No way! I’m not going babysitting while everyone I love prepares for a war!”

Ellen frowned at her daughter. “Meg will agree with me. Meg, don’t you think Jo would be safer in Sioux Falls?”

Meg sat up straighter, eyes wide, shocked to be pulled into the middle of a Harvelle showdown. She shot Cas a pleading glance. “I’m not touching this one with a fifty foot pole,” Meg said, grudgingly adding, “But if Jo’s going, I’m going too.”

Ellen turned on Meg with a look angry enough to melt through flesh.

“Actually,” Castiel cut in, wincing when Ellen turned on him next, “I already asked Victor—he still owes me for saving his life, and he _did_ work in private security for a time. He, uh, asked if Ash would go with him, because…” Cas squinted at Ash, “they work so well together.”

Meg elbowed Ash in the ribs.

“I’ll do it!” Ash said, folding like a chair under Jo, Ash, and Castiel’s pressure. “I mean…I’m better with protection detail than open warfare, anyway, so…”

“Save it,” Ellen said, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Ash. I’ll be outside the eastern gate at six with the King and Queen in the morning—that is, as Castiel. When you see me,” Cas stood, leaning toward Ash threateningly, “ _Do not_ laugh.”

 .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”” Chuck asked nervously. He was dressed in peasant’s clothing, walking with Castiel in front of Becky and Samandriel. The change of clothing made Chuck look like a completely different person—much more unassuming and nervous.

Castiel himself had dressed down for the occasion—wearing his vigilante clothing but with a thin blue scarf and without his tan coat.

“I had to agree to come along, Chuck. Your refusal last night looked suspicious, and despite the current circumstances, Michael still wants me dead.”

“Yeah, but Eden needs you more than I do.”

“I won’t stay with you. I’m going to ride with you there and most likely return with Dean.”

“Oh. Yeah, that works.”

“Despite what Michael thinks, Samandriel, Victor, and Ash will be more than enough to protect you.”

“I know. I’m not worried,” Chuck said, shoving his hand in his pockets. They were nearing the gate, where Victor and Ash would be waiting. Dean would meet them well outside the city with the horses. “You were awesome last night, by the way. Totally scary and vengeful and…not at all you.”

Castiel was about to protest, say he was more himself  _then_  than he was _now,_ but then he heard a snort followed by a loud guffaw. Victor and Ash had spotted them, then.

When Cas looked toward the sound, his eyes widened. He saw Ash, hands, on his knees, laughing himself breathless. Victor stood beside him, yes, but so did Jo, Meg, and Ellen.

At first the rest of them didn’t see what had Ash in such a state of hysteria, but when Castiel made eye contact, _they knew._ They all had different reactions. Victor’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jo and Meg simultaneously burst into peals of laughter, Jo having to drop into a squat as she was laughing too hard to stand.

Ellen held out the longest, but eventually they were all standing there, laughing at Castiel.

Cas blushed and looked back at Chuck, who was giving Castiel and amused yet sympathetic smile. Becky was beaming from ear to ear, glancing between Cas and his friends like it was the most exciting exchange she’d ever witnessed. Poor Samandriel looked confused beyond measure, and uncertain of whether or not he should be offended.

“I suppose those are the vigilante’s men,” Cas mumbled for Samandriel’s sake. “I’ll…go speak with them.”

When they saw him approaching, Victor, Jo, and Meg all started laughing harder. Ash, for his part, had composed himself, although the occasional giggle and snort escaped his lips.

“I told you not to laugh,” Castiel whined, which sent Ellen into another bout of laughter.

“Not laughing at _you_ , Cas,” Jo giggled, "Cute necktie, though—I think I have one just like it at home. The lace is a nice touch.”

Cas frowned down at his blue scarf.

“Ignore her, Castiel,” Victor said, shaking his head, “But I _do_ have a question for you: who do you get to style your hair? Because if I ever grow mine out—“

“Hilarious. Really, all of you.”

Cas had never heard Meg laugh so hard—he was pretty sure he would have remembered the high-pitched cackle that was currently coming from her mouth. If it wasn’t so amusing, he probably would’ve been more annoyed with the situation. “You’re wearing an earring, Clarence!” she screeched, clutching her stomach. “ _An earring_!”

“Oh my god,” Jo laughed, just noticing the jewelry in question.

Castiel took a deep breath, raising his eyes heavenward. “Will you all try to contain yourselves? The King is watching.”

“Oh, like we care,” Meg said, but she tried harder to keep a straight face.

“Why are you here, anyways?” he narrowed his eyes at them. “I said _Ash and Victor._ ”

“We couldn’t pass up a chance to _meet_ you, Castiel,” Meg grinned, “And, oh boy, it was the best decision we’ve ever made. Digging the guy-liner, by the way. You really do know how to make a girl’s nether regions quiver, don’ cha?”

“I _am_ aware of how to do that.”

Jo laughed.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No, you didn’t want to tell us because you have trust issues and masochistic tendencies. But in case you didn’t notice, we know and somehow, the world is still spinning, okay? So take a deep breath and try getting that stick out of your ass.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the demon. “I don’t have a—“

“So are we going or what?” Jo asked, rolling her eyes.

“I figured we could walk with you out of the city,” Meg shrugged, “just until we meet up with Winchester.”

 .

Dean frowned when he saw the group approaching. “What are you all doing here? The Angel said _two of you_ were coming.”

He tried several times to make eye contact with Castiel, but Cas studiously ignored him.

“Relax, lover boy,” Meg sighed, “we just came along to see you off—and we wanted to check out the King’s angels, make sure they could handle themselves. And I like what we’ve seen so far,” she purred, winking at Cas.

Dean’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Yeah, thanks.. We’ll be fine from here.”

“I’m sure you will. I can see you’re in good hands. Although, maybe I should come with you too, just in case. What do you think, Cas?”

“Absolutely not,” Dean said before Castiel could open his mouth. “Where’s your boss, anyways? Why couldn’t he come see us off?” the human asked a little nervously.

“The vigilante doesn’t come out during the day, Dean,” Cas murmured, “Everyone knows that.”

“Gee, thanks for the input, Cas,” Dean bit, turning away to help the King with his horse.

Castiel frowned at the human’s back. What had he done to—oh, that’s right. They were still fighting. To Dean, the last time they’d talked, Cas had shouted at him and had him kicked out of the castle.

“Good luck with that one, Clarence. Looks like you’re going to need it.”

“So you ready to go, your highness?” Dean asked.

"Call me Chuck," the King said, "we're going incognito here, right? You might as well."

"Will do," Dean nodded, mounting his massive black horse.

"Have a nice trip, Clarence."

“You know you can use my real name now,” Cas observed, eyes never leaving Dean.

“I think I’ll just stick with Clarence,” Meg smiled, “See you, what, tomorrow night?”

.

Dean and Castiel spent the first hour or so of the ride arguing.

“Dean, I hardly think that constitutes a—“

“Oh my God,” Chuck groaned, “Will you two _stop bickering?”_

“You’re driving us all crazy,” Victor agreed.

“I think it’s cute,” Becky grinned back at them.

“Well, you’re the only one,” Chuck groused, “I’m getting the sense that you two know each other?”

“Isn’t he a smart one?” Dean asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, “So glad we have intelligent men like you to run our country, your highness.”

"Hey, don’t snap at _me._ I didn’t do anything to you,” Chuck said, defending himself.

“’ _You didn’t do anything to me_ ,’” Dean laughed humorlessly, “Yeah, you’re right about that. You’re also right about me knowing Cas, by the way.”

“Dean,” Castiel warned.

“We were best friends, actually. But then, you know, Cas was ordered to leave his home and his family and friends in order to move thousands of miles to some random dude’s castle.”

“Oh.”

“Ignore Dean. It was an _honor,_ Chuck.”

"No, Castiel, don’t. I’m sorry, I—I never realized. I didn’t think about it at all—what it would mean for you, coming here. And I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Little late for that, buddy.”

"Okay," Victor snapped, "Dean-- ride in the front. Castiel-- ride in the back. No talking to each other, and no yelling at the rest of us."

. 

Two more hours into the ride, Dean was starting to get bored with the steady stream of trees and gravel. It all looked the same and he couldn’t concentrate on anything else because his mind was locked in a steady stream of: _Cas. Cas. Cas. Regret. Cas. Longing. Cas. Cas. Cas._

He looked back over his shoulder: he was currently leading the odd, rag-tag procession, Ash and the _not-Cas-angel_ close behind him, followed by Chuck and Becky, Victor, and Castiel bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Ash,” Dean said, slowing his horse.

“Yeah?”

“Did I tell you I dig the haircut?”

Ash smirked. “All business up front, a party in the back.”

Dean let Impala slow further until most of the group had passed him up.

Castiel gave Dean a strange look as he fell into line beside him, like he couldn’t decide between kissing the human and killing him. Dean definitely would’ve preferred the former.

As if on cue, Castiel’s eyes dropped down to Dean’s lips and lingered before returning to his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Maybe Dean was imagining it, but Castiel’s voice sounded different than it had that first day, higher and less gravelly.

“So, I—“

“Dean,” Castiel said, more gently than Dean was expecting, “I…I’m sorry about yesterday. And today. And everything I've said since you came to see me. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, and I’m sorry I lashed out so harshly.”

“Jesus, Cas, _you_ don’t have to— _I’m_ the one that keeps screwing everything up, you’re just protecting yourself. No, don’t give me those sappy, pitying eyes. I mean it. There were probably a million better ways I could have handled yesterday.”

Cas allowed himself a small smile, and Dean reciprocated the gesture. “That may be true.”

“So does this mean we can be done fighting?” Dean asked. Castiel didn’t answer, just kept giving him that look that registered somewhere between annoyance and fondness. “Because I was a dick then, and I was a dick yesterday, but I miss you and I think we’ve wasted too much time being mad at each other—“

“Are you apologizing?”

“I’m _trying_. Come on, man, I worked on this speech for like, an hour.”

“Then by all means, don’t let me interrupt you,” Cas smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“All I’m saying is, we were best friends once, and we wasted fifteen years being mad at each other when we should’ve been supporting each other. I don’t even care if you’ve turned into a stupid, mindless hammer of the courts, I just want the fighting to stop, because I…I need you, Cas,” he said quietly, “We’re family.”

Castiel’s smile softened. “That's the speech you worked on for an hour?"

Dean laughed. “Don’t be a dick. You know I don’t do apologies—you’re lucky you’re getting this much.”

Castiel thought it over. “I forgive you for everything you said if you forgive me for leaving in the first place,” Cas said, tilting his head to the side as he waited for Dean’s answer.

“Deal,” Dean grinned at him.

“Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Cas asked, lowering his voice.

“Okay.”

“I’m not a hammer, as you say. I still have questions. I—I have doubts. I’m still the friend you knew, Dean.”

“I know.”

Cas thought Dean didn’t look so sure. Like he was trying to convince himself even though he knew it was a lie.

They rode in silence for a minute, listening to Victor and Ash’s loud back and forth banter.

“When were you last in Lawrence?” Cas asked.

“It’s been a while,” Dean admitted, scratching his neck, “A year? Mom comes and visits us down here, mostly.”

“Us? You and Sam?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling proudly, “Sammy’s a hunter too, and a damn good one. We usually work cases together, I was just put on border control ‘cos I was annoying Bobby to death.”

“Sam’s good, then?”

“Yeah. Really good. That’s kind of another reason I've been working cases on my own--- Sam’s engaged. Her name’s Jess—she’s…she’s _really_ sweet, Cas, but also kinda badass. I think you’ll like her—she’s a lot like my mom.”

“What about your father?”

Dean’s smile fell. “He, uh, bit it a while back. Stroke.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a dick,” Dean shrugged.

“But he was still your father, dick or not. It must not have been easy for you to lose him.”

“Yeah,” Dean looked Cas up and down, small smile on his full lips, “Thanks.”

“For offering my condolences?” Castiel’s eyebrows drew together.

“Well…no one really seems to get that, you know? John pissed off a lot of people in his life, and even Sam…I think even Sam was sorta glad to see him go, but he was still my dad…” Dean coughed. “Your family’s all good, too. I mean, I’m sure you keep in contact, but they’re, uh…good.”

Cas chuckled.

“Castiel,” Victor said suddenly, turning to look at him, “it’s been hours since we’ve passed another traveler.”

Cas frowned. “Is that unusual?”

“Road like this?” Dean looked around, as if noticing their surroundings for the first time, “Should be packed at this time of day. We haven’t seen a soul.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ambush. Bandits. Bad weather. Construction. Could be any number of things, but its probably a good idea to keep a lookout,” Victor said, eyes roving over the trees around them as the forest took on an ominous cast, shadows lurking where they had not been before.

“Huh. That was interesting,” Dean observed to Cas a minute later.

“What was interesting?”

“He defaulted to you, not me. _I’m_ the hunter, but he mentioned the road thing to _you,_ the court angel.”

Cas shrugged.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean said, narrowing his eyes, “I mean, he’s just meeting both of us for the _first time_ , right?” He watched for Castiel’s reaction. The angel didn’t meet Dean’s eyes, muttering something about “not being sure why.”

Dean frowned, looking back over the group.

Samandriel stretched his arms, wings stretching with them. The tip of the right wing brushed against Ash beside him, making the human jump comically in his saddle.

“Hey,” Dean began, deciding to change the subject. “How come you don’t, uh, wear your wings—you know, _out,_ like Alfie?”

“Alfie?” Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Samandriel or whatever is kind of ridiculous, but I can’t shorten it to Sam or Sammy, obviously, so I decided to call him Alfie because his last name is Alf—uh, something else crazy. He’s cool with the nickname.”

Cas nodded. “I don’t keep my wings out because _I’m not a show-off,”_ Castiel raised his voice, watching Samandriel with a twinkle in his eye.

Samandriel half-turned in the saddle, “No,” he said to Dean, “it’s because his feathers aren’t as soft and plush as mine and he’s embarrassed.”

Dean laughed at Castiel’s pout.

Impala's ears swiveled toward the copse of trees to their left, whinnying nervously. It was the only warning he had before he heard several twangs and a small volley of arrows soared out of the brush toward them. In a flash, Victor leapt off his horse, dismounting Chuck from his and tackling him to the ground. Samandriel's wings flared out, shielding Becky from the onslaught. 

Fortunately— Dean did quick damage control— most of the arrows missed their mark aside from two, one of which struck Chuck's horse, and another that left a large red gash in Samandriel's white wing. He didn't have time to ask if everyone was okay before at least twenty men and women were running out of the trees, wielding weapons.

"Shit," Dean swore, "Ash! Get Becky and Chuck away from here  _now_!"

Ash nodded, dragging Chuck to his feet and checking that Becky was with them. 

Dean drew his sword, and beside him, Castiel pulled a curved dagger shorter than Dean's forearm from his boot. Dean glanced at his friend, his stupid mind noting how good a determined scowl looked on his face— and how there was something about the look that seemed familiar, though he wasn't sure why. 

"You're fighting with  _that_?!" Dean demanded.

"I fight better up close," Castiel growled, his voice suddenly much lower than it had been, grating like two stones rubbing against each other, and his expression took on a feral cast.

The bandits— or demons or monsters or whatever they were, Dean couldn’t tell yet— reached Victor and Samandriel first. Dean growled, urging Impala right into the middle of the fray. As the black horse cantered past one of the enemies, Dean swung his sword and chopped it's head clean off.

Another bared its teeth at him, eyes turning black.

"They're demons!" Dean warned the group, ducking as the demon swung at him.

.

Cas made his wings visible. With a single powerful beat of them, he flipped gracefully off his horse and landed on both feet, calmly turning to face two demons with an intrigued tilt of his head.

"You were here waiting to kill the King," he guessed. "How'd you know?"

"You think Lucifer didn't know this would happen?" one of the demons sneered. "We'll get to the king once we kill you,  _angel._ "

Castiel tossed the dagger up, catching the handle so the blade was pointed toward the ground, and took a step forward, swinging his arm so the blade sliced a long, deep line from hip to chin in the closest demon. The demon gaped and gurgled, collapsing first to his knees, then his stomach. 

The female demon he spoke to surged forward, swinging her sword with inhuman speed. Castiel caught it with his dagger and twisted, knocking her arm to the side. While she was thrown off balance, he pressed a palm to her forehead. There was a white flash of light and a scream, and the second demon collapsed dead. 

Two more demons ran toward him and he marched to meet them. He stepped between them, catching them both by the throats, and drove them both into the ground, dropping to one knee. Two more dead. He lifted his head, eyes widening when he saw another demon standing in front of him with a smirk, already lifting his sword to bring down on Castiel’s head.

A body barreled into the demon's, knocking it to the ground.

Dean straddled the monster and wrenched its sword from its hand, then lifting his own and driving it down with two hands.

He glanced at Cas, a smirk playing at his lips. "You're welcome."

In reply, Cas pulled a smaller knife from his other boot and hurled it. It spun past Dean's head and lodged itself with a dull thud into the chest of the demon sneaking up behind the human. "You're welcome,” the angel said back.

Dean let loose an exhilarated grin, green eyes flashing. "I guess that makes us even."

Cas nodded, smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah, yeah. You two are adorable, but can you flirt another time?" Victor asked from a few feet away. He was wiping his sword on the shirt of one of the dead demons, trying to get the blood off.

Dean and Cas looked around—the battle appeared to be over.

"Well that was fast," Dean observed, climbing to his feet. "That the best Lucifer can do?"

 Chuck and Becky peered up from over a boulder a few feet away. Becky stood, but Dean held a hand out to stop her.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked. 

"Looks like," Ash said, reaching up to return his two thin blades to the sheaths strapped across his back.

"Someone go check the forest. Make sure there aren't any more of them," Dean ordered. Samandriel and Victor left.

" _Like I said_ , Lucifer most likely had spies in the palace and found out we were transporting the King," Castiel said in a low voice to Dean.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, kicking at the nearest dead body, trying to see if it wore any crests on its clothing. If they were lucky, this was the only group and Lucif-- his head snapped up. "Wait, what?" he gaped at Cas. "Cas, _y_ _ou_ didn’t—"

" _DEAN!”_ Chuck’s panicky voice shouted. 

Dean turned to see a demon kneeling on the ground twenty feet away. It looked injured, mortally so, but it had an arrow, knocked and ready, pointed at Dean’s head.

He had only enough time to shut his eyes. 

But then a hand was on his chest, sending him flying backward. 

He soared through the air, hitting the ground with a loud  _thud,_  and all of the air in his lungs surged out in a rush. After a second of gaping like a fish on his back, he rolled onto his side, coughing.

"Shit, Castiel!" came Ash’s worried voice.

The next second, Dean was up and sprinting toward the angel.

 .

Cas dropped to one knee, wincing in pain. Ash chopped the demon’s head off, and he, Becky, and Chuck were all by Castiel’s side seconds later, cringing at something he couldn't see. 

Dean ran over and dropped to his knees in front of the angel, one hand going to Castiel's neck and the other grabbing at his shirt, trying to find the trace of any injuries on his body. "Fuck. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Cas? Is there anything I can do? I am  _so_  sorry, dude. I wasn't looking—this is all my fault—"

"Dean," Cas gritted out. "It's okay. It's just my wing..."

Dean turned, noticing the arrow lodged in the angel’s wing. He felt the head drain from his face as he watched the rough white feathers around the injury slowly blossom into a bright red.

Castiel craned his neck to see—he saw the head of the arrow, as much as had torn through the wing to come out the other side, but he couldn’t see the other half of the arrow or the place where it had punctured his wing without moving it.

"Dean," Ash said, "get out of the way. Let me look at it."

“Ash knows what he’s doing—he’s sort of an angel genius,” Victor said, more to reassure Dean than Cas.

“I’ve patched up the vigilante hundreds of times, for injuries way worse than a little pinprick like that,” Ash winked at Castiel.

 _“Pinprick?!_ There’s an _arrow_ hanging out of his wing!”

 “Yeah, but looks like it missed the bone,” Ash explained, “the bones extend along the top of the wing,” Ash lifted Castiel’s wing, having him extend it so he could point out the wing joints, patting the upper, less sensitive part of the wing. “And everything else, for the most part, is skin and muscle. Now, your boy Castiel’s arrow missed the bone, the muscle, and all of the major veins. It’ll hurt like hell for a bit, but he’ll be fine.”

“ _Dean._ Let Ash look at it—he knows what he’s doing,” Cas breathed when Dean still hesitated to move. He screwed his eyes shut against the pain.

Dean frowned, scooting to give Ash better access to Castiel’s wing, but didn’t move his hand from Castiel’s chest. “You okay? Cas, talk to me. Does it hurt? Is there anything I can do?”

“Count of three. One—” Ash mumbled, snapping the tip off the arrow and pulling it quickly out of the wing. Cas gasped, reaching up and grabbing whatever was the closest thing to him—which, in this case, was Dean’s shoulder—with enough strength to bruise.

Dean looked at Ash angrily. “You couldn’t’ve given him more of a warning?”

“Relax. He’s had worse—haven’t you, bos- er, Castiel?”

“No more demons around, by the way,” Victor quickly volunteered to cover Ash’s slip.

“Dean,” Ash said, moving back from examining Castiel’s wing to give the hunter an exasperated look. “You want to help? Go get me some water and my green bag. ‘S better than fawning over the angel like a mother bear protecting her cub.”

Both Dean and Cas glared at him before Dean grudgingly nodded and got up.

“I’m never trusting you with any secrets again,” Castiel hissed the moment he was gone.

“My bad. What the hell’ve you got all over your wings, anyway, boss?”

“It’s a…” Cas broke off, flinching as Ash tried to brush the feathers out of the way. The paint made them stick together and stay in place. “an oil-based paint. Sort of. It comes off with soap and water.”

Ash knelt in front of the wound, examining it from every direction and "mhm-ing" occasionally. When Dean came back with the bag, Ash set about neatly and quickly bandaging up the wound.

Cas gave Dean a reassuring smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace when Ash poked at the area around the injury.

Dean growled, looking like he wanted to impale  _Ash_  with an arrow and poke, see how he liked it.

“How does it look?” Dean asked, practically breathing down Ash’s neck.

“Dude. Space. You do get that angels are fast healers, right? Cas will be better in a few hours,” Ash said, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “See? Already stopped bleeding. But the faster we can get him somewhere we can properly clean the wound, the better.”

“Ash is right. We need to keep moving. We’re not far from Sioux falls, right?” Victor asked.

“An hour, tops,” Dean answered, standing and looking around.

“Uh, guys?” Chuck asked, looking like he was going to be sick, “my horse is dead.”

"Great,” Dean pinched at the bridge of his nose, “Impala can carry two, so someone can ride with me. I’m obviously not going to make you double up, your highness. So who’s up for sharing a saddle with me for another hour?”

Everyone turned to look at Castiel.

 

“ _Cas._ Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m injured, Dean. I can fidget if I choose to fidget.”

Cas was riding behind Dean on Impala, his wings tucked away so he wouldn’t scare the horse.

“Oh, right, _now_ it hurts,” Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel had spent the first fifteen minutes of the ride insisting that he was _fine,_ that it didn’t hurt. When Dean stopped coddling him, Cas started using the injury to his advantage (“No, Dean, you have to ride in front because I’m injured—I’ll ride behind you” and “Dean, can I have the rest of your water? I’m injured,” “Be nice to me, Dean, I sustained an injury risking my life for you,”).

Castiel laughed, his warm breath caressing the back of Dean’s neck.

“But seriously, man, let me know if hurts, okay? Lots of nerve endings in the underside of wings, right?”Dean asked, glancing back at the angel.

Cas nodded, not recognizing Dean’s pointed reference. “It’s by no means _comfortable_.”

“I have something that might help you,” he said thoughtfully. He tried to reach into his jacket pocket, but ended up elbowing the angel. “Sorry. If you could, uh…”

Castiel slipped his hand into the hunter’s pocket, smiling as Dean tried not to squirm, and pulled out a silver flask.

“It might, you know, help with the pain a bit.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, reaching around Dean’s chest with his other hand to unscrew the top. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and he was unable to stop himself from leaning into the surprisingly defined muscles of Castiel’s chest. Apparently underneath the layers of dyed and rich clothing, Cas was pretty fit. So much for court angels being fat, lazy, assholes.

The angel didn’t pull away, lifting the flask to his lips and taking several long droughts.

“Uh…Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Did you just drain that whole thing?”

“It would seem so.”

Dean swiveled to look at him. “Dude. That was like, _straight up_ alcohol.”

Cas shrugged and wormed the empty flask back into Dean’s pocket.

. 

It was late afternoon by the time they finally arrived at their destination. As every member of the party was filthy, haggard, and covered in blood, Dean led them around the outskirts of the city so they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

“You’ll be staying at my friend Bobby’s, Chuck.”

“Bobby Singer?” Victor asked, “As in, Captain of the Hunters?”

“Yeah. He’s an old family friend.”

Victor hummed, clearly impressed.

“How much farther?” Castiel asked. He had a slight headache, but the wound was well on its way to being healed. The problem, though, was the itching—Castiel’s feathers trying to stitch themselves back together combined with the sticky paint covering his wings was causing a terrible, instiable itchiness, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take of it.

“Not long.”

He’d met Bobby Singer a few times. Bobby would always pass through Lawrence if he was working a case nearby. One time, when Cas was nine, the Winchesters invited him down to Sioux Falls with them to visit Bobby. For the most part, it was a pleasant trip—barring the last night, which was ruined by a drunk John Winchester.

Dean turned Impala down a narrow dirt road, which led to a familiar, battered two-story house. Despite his discomfort, Castiel smiled up at it.

Dean stopped them a ways off, turning Impala to face the group. Cas slid off so Dean could dismount. “All of you, just…stay here while I explain what’s going on,” Dean said. “Except you, Cas. You’re with me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, following Dean the rest of the way to the house and up the front porch steps.

“Yeah, Bobby loves you. Well, he thinks you’re funny. ‘Sides, he’s probably not even home,” Dean smirked, pounding on the door.

“Then what—“

After a moment the door swung open, revealing a tall— _really tall_ (Castiel considered _himself_ tall, compared to Chuck, Meg, and everyone else in his life before Dean showed up, and this man was taller even than _Dean_ )—long haired young man.

He took in Dean and his rugged appearance, face registering shock, concern, and exasperation in rapid succession, changing quickly into annoyance when he noticed Cas standing behind Dean.

“ _No,”_ he said, before closing the door in Dean’s face. Dean laughed and tried to push the door open.

"Dean, I told you I don’t want to be introduced to your boy toy of the week anymore!” the man’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Your _what?_ ” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

Dean laughed nervously, still throwing his weight against the door. “He’s _kidding_ , Cas. He’s, uh…he’s a kidder, all right.”

The door suddenly flew open, sending Dean flying inside. The taller man ignored Dean and his cursing, instead giving Cas a wide-eyed, hopeful look that would give a month-old puppy heavy competition. “Cas?” he asked. “As in _Castiel?”_

Cas tilted his head to the side. “How—“

The next second, his entire body was encased in a rib-crushing hug. From over the man’s shoulder, Cas looked at Dean—who was climbing to his feet—with confusion. He reached one arm up and awkwardly patted the man’s back, cringing when the movement sent a jolt of pain down his right side.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean grumbled, pulling the man away from Cas. “You’re going to break him, Samsquatch.”

“I don’t think you can _break_ an angel, Dean,” the man laughed, smiling brightly at Castiel.

“Sam,” Cas finally realized. “It’s good to see you. You’ve…grown.”

“Nice of you to notice, Cas,” Sam nodded sarcastically. And _now_ Cas could see the family resemblance. "Wait...oh my God. Please tell me...are you two, like, _together_?"

Castiel wasn't sure what Sam meant until he noticed Dean blushing a furious shade of red. 

" _No._ Shutup, Sammy-- we actually have a bit of a situation on our hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to make this a slow build, promise...good news, though: next chapter contains smut and shocking revelations (not necessarily in that order)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives at Bobby's and they explain the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, this is a REALLY short chapter. It's sort of a filler-- the next one will be up tomorrow, and it's going to be a BIG one, guys.
> 
> Heh. Remember how I promised smut and shocking revelations in this chapter? You get one...sorry...but you get the other in the next chapter, I SWEAR.

“Hey Sam, what—“ A blonde woman appeared in the doorway, freezing when she saw Dean and Cas. “Oh—hey, Dean. We weren’t expecting you back for a while. I thought Sam and Bobby told you to stop bringing random guys home,” she teased, looking at Cas with a tight-lipped smile.

Castiel glared at Dean.

“It’s cool, Jess,” Sam laughed, “This is Castiel. We all grew up in Lawrence together.”

“Really?” Jess asked with a more genuine smile in Castiel’s direction. “How come I’ve never heard about you before now?”

Beside Castiel, Dean shifted uncomfortably. After Cas left for Eden, Dean refused to talk about the angel, and he banned the rest of the family from bringing him up as well.

Castiel sensed this, or guessed as much, and quickly diverted the subject. “You’re Sam’s fiancé?”

“That I am,” she smiled, looking up at Sam.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Castiel offered her his hand, giving her what he hoped was an endearing smile. “Dean told me much about you on the way here.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she turned to Dean, winking, “He’s cute, Dean.”

“We’re not—Why does everybody think—“ Dean sputtered.

“Really? This is still going on?” Sam sighed, pursing his lips and glancing between Dean and Cas judgmentally. He turned to Jess, “These two were the _epitome_ of sexual tension for _years._ ”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Cas fidgeted, his wings rippling in the space between planes, the only evidence of his discomfort being a slight fluttering sound.

“Wait, are you an angel?” Jess asked, eyes widening.

Cas nodded. “I am.”

“Wow. That’s…I’ve never spoken to one before; it’s an honor, really. I have so many questions. Aren’t you supposed to have wings?”

“He does,” Dean answered, “He can, like, tuck them away or some shit.”

“Can we see them?” Sam asked with a hopeful smile, getting as excited at the prospect as his fiancé.

“If you want to see wings, I’d ask Samandriel,” Castiel smiled. "His are more conventional."

"Who's Samandrel? And besides, It'd be cool to see _your_ wings, dude," Sam beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. "Since we've been friends for forever."

"Later," Cas promised, “Mine currently aren’t…in peak physical condition.”

“Shit,” Dean jumped, remembering Cas’ injuries, “Uh, we were attacked on the way here and Cas took an arrow to the wing," he explained, "You good, Cas?”

The angel nodded, waving Dean’s concern away dismissively.

“You were _attacked_?” Sam asked, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and glancing worriedly between Dean and Cas. “By who?”

“By demons. Lucifer’s demons, most likely.”

“ _What?”_

“It was an ambush—they were after the King—“

“ _The King?!_ Dean, what the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“Oh, yeah. The King and Queen are waiting outside with three guards.”

“ _What?!”_

_._

 

“What the _hell_?” a gruff, scowling man demanded, riding up. “Why the hell is there an angel and a bunch of filthy yahoos on my property?”

“You’re Bobby Singer,” Chuck guessed, riding forward. Samandriel moved to follow, but Chuck reassured him with a gesture.

“Yeah,” the man grunted, as is offended by their very presence, “Who’re you?”

“You may find this hard to believe, but, uh…I’m King Shurley.”

“My ass.”

Chuck nodded good-naturedly. “This is Queen Becky, and my guards—Victor and Ash, and the Angel Samandriel.”

“Howdy, Bobby,” Ash called, waving.

Bobby squinted at him. “You’re one of Ellen’s boys, ain’t yah?”

“Sure am,” Ash nodded. “Ellen says hi, by the way.”

Chuck continued. “My other angel, Castiel, just went inside with Dean, looking for you—he said we should probably wait here while he explained the situation.”

“Castiel, huh?” Bobby grunted, looking them over thoughtfully, “Might as well come on, then. Stable’s around back.”

 

Sam, Jess, and Dean all jumped at the sound of the door slamming open.

“Wanna tell me why the King was loitering in my driveway, boy?” Bobby asked, storming in. He acknowledged Cas with a nod and a “good to see ya again, Castiel.”

“Also,” Bobby began, Chuck and the rest of the group entering behind them, “why ain’t you at the border?”

“There is a perfectly good answer to _both_ those questions, Bobby, just calm down.”

“I am calm. Well?” Bobby asked, prompting Dean to continue.

“I was at the border, and a runner came with news that Lucifer was riding to Eden with an army of two to three hundred demons—“ Sam’s eyebrows shot up and Bobby ran a hand across his beard. “—so I rode straight for Eden, but then I couldn’t get an audience with the King, so I met with the Vigilante—“

“Woah, really?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. And then he took me to meet with the King and Michael—the chief of Eden’s city guard—and we discussed tactics, and we decided it was best to get the King out of the city, so I offered up your place—sorry Bobby, figured it’d be safest—and yeah. Here we are.”

Bobby took a deep breath. “Yeah. Well I don’t see I have much of a choice, but my place’s as good as any for you to stay, your highness, though I can’t promise accommodations like you’re used to. We’ll get some extra guards, too.”

“We’re going to need whatever hunters you got, Bobby—I’m headed back to Eden tomorrow, and Michael needs as much help as he can get against Lucifer’s demons. Apparently the city reserves aren’t exactly equipped to handle the situation.”

Bobby scratched at his beard. “I reckon we’ve got about a hundred hunters stationed here in the city, another hundred less than a day’s ride away. I can get a hundred for you by tomorrow afternoon, another hundred in a couple days. When’s Lucifer set to reach Eden?”

“A week.”

“You going to come with, Sammy?” Dean asked, glancing between Sam and Jessica.

Sam looked at Jess pleadingly.

“I understand,” Jess smiled sadly, “You have to.”

“I’ll have to head back in now, start gathering up the hunters,” Bobby said, thinking out loud, “If they’re going to be ready to go by tomorrow.” Bobby collapsed into a chair and sulked, retreating into his own thoughts.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Sam asked Dean suddenly, “what’s he like? The vigilante?”

“Like the stories say,” Dean shrugged, glancing at Castiel. “Dark and mysterious and powerful, with these massive wings that are soft and black—“

“Soft?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean—you know what I mean.”

“Dean doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ash snorted, “the angel’s actually a total weirdo, when you get to know him.”

Cas elbowed him in the ribs.

“You know him, then?”

“Yeah, Ash and Victor are his men—they volunteered to help protect the King. I don’t think the vigilante trusted Michael’s angels to do the job, you know? Uh, no offense, Cas, Alfie. There was just some serious tension between the two.”

“There’s tension between Michael and everyone he meets,” Castiel grumbled, seemingly startled when all eyes turned to him.

Chuck snorted.

“Shit, sorry, we're being totally rude. Does anybody want anything to drink? Uh…you highness? I was going to go get some water from out back. We have fruit, too. Hang on,” Sam said, standing up.

Castiel slipped out of the room after him.

 

“Sam,” Castiel said. Sam jumped, cursing, and spun to face the angel.

“Dude. You’re _really_ quiet, do you know that?”

“Apologies,” Cas said with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Same gave him a vaguely amused smile, “Look, man, it really is good to see you. I’m glad you and Dean finally settled your differences or whatever.”

“I’m glad too. I’d love to talk, Sam, but as Dean mentioned earlier, I injured my wing in the battle earlier—“

“Oh, shit, that’s right! Um, do you need a doctor or something?”

“No, nothing like that. But I do need a place to wash them in peace. Is the pond still--?”

“Yeah. That way—it’s not far. Just beyond those trees.”

“Thank you, Sam. If Dean or anyone else asks, tell them I’ll just be an hour or so.”

“Will do.”

 

Cas walked in the direction Sam pointed, vaguely remembering the way from his last trip to Bobby’s.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to ignore the itch that was stretching all the way up his injured wing.

Things were going about as well as he’d expected. Castiel trusted that Chuck would be safe at Bobby’s, no matter what happened in Eden. The ambush on the road was unfortunate, but hopefully it was an isolated incident. When he got back to Eden, he’d have to meet with his more _covert_ contacts—find out if Lucifer had spies in the city and who they were. And then he would get rid of them.

Cas’ discomfort grew unbearable and he pulled his wings out to scratch at the area around the wound. Stupid painted feathers. Stupid disguises.

Getting back to Eden was going to be... _complicated._ Dean didn’t know Cas was planning on returning with him, didn’t know why—and if the hunter was still half as protective as he’d been when they were children, Dean wouldn’t just let his best friend (ex-best friend? Comrade? Acquaintance? Romantic interest? What even were they to each other anymore?) leave the safety of Sioux Falls.

He should probably just tell Dean the truth, then. He had to, eventually.

Later.

Cas reached a large grouping of trees, and he knew just behind it lie—yes, there it was.

He stepped between the trees, leaves crunching under his boots and a gentle breeze caressing his hair. Emerging, he stood before a large pond—beautiful and serene, with clear water the color of his eyes and a white washed shore of smooth rocks of varying sizes.

Tall, narrow trees circled two thirds of the pond, blocking the view of it from the road and from Bobby’s.

He paused where the grass gave way to mud and rocks, bending over to take off his boots and socks. His shirt came off next—it would make the grooming much easier, and it’s not like there was anyone around to see. He abandoned all of his other personal belongings as well—the small leather purse he wore at his hip, the three daggers he’d stashed at strategic points on his body. He kept his pendant, though. He never took it off if he could help it, even if it seemed kind of pointless now.

Gingerly he began making his way out onto the rocks, toward one in particular—a smooth, flat grey rock as long as a tree that extended to the middle of the pond. He jumped nimbly from rock to rock, trying to avoid stepping in the mud with his bare feet. When one of the rocks wobbled, his wings flared out to help him catch his balance.

He grinned to himself and finally reached the long rock. When he’d visited Bobby’s the first time, they’d spent an entire day swimming here. Dean had taken Sam’s hand on one side and Castiel’s on the other, and they’d run down the length of the rock, leaping into the water when they’d reached the other end.

It was deeper than it looked, Cas remembered as he walked carefully down to the far end of the rock, its warm surface warm beneath his feet. He let one leg dangle into the water, the other tucked beneath his knee, and leaned his weight on one elbow so his wing was halfway submerged in the cold water.

His eyes fell shut and a soft sigh escaped his lips at the cool sensation encompassing the lower half of his injured wing. He swished it around a bit, feeling the water shift and flow around his strained muscles.

Opening his eyes, Castiel looked out over the water. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. The simple, elegant serenity of nature. He’d been in the city so long—he’d forgotten how beautiful the rest of the world could be.

Nature. The open sky, trees, grass, and clean water. It was all beautiful.

He reached around and started running his hands through the waterlogged feathers, brushing out clumps of wet paint.

He kept at it for a while, grooming and thinking, until his right wing was almost free of paint. Cas hadn’t meant to groom the whole thing, just enough that it wouldn’t be an irritation, but it felt good to be clean, so he kept going. If he had to, he could just keep his wings hidden until they made it back to Eden.

 _Of course,_ a small voice at the back of his mind said, _he wouldn’t have to hide if he just told Dean the truth. Maybe the time for secrets really was over._

Because what would happen after the war with Lucifer, assuming he survived? Now Chuck knew the truth. All of his friends at the Roadhouse knew the truth. And recently, he’d been wondering…Eden was clean now. Its citizens were learning to stand up for themselves. Was the vigilante even needed anymore? And could Castiel go back to the way things were before? Without this? Without Dean?

He thought he already knew the answer to that.

Noticing the pain was mostly gone now that his wings were free to heal properly, Castiel lifted his wing out of the water to examine the wound and shook it out.

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out. of all the possible reactions Castiel considered, this wasn't one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was fun to write. I totally raced through it (I didn't even edit or anything, sorry if there are typos, guys), but I'm actually pretty proud of how that turned out. 
> 
> And I got to weave in a lot of Castiel's lines from the show, so that's always totally awesome. 
> 
> Okay. Yeah...I'll just. Yeah. Enjoy.

“Dean,” Cas jumped up, tucking his wings away and attempting an innocent smile. Dean didn’t smile back, standing at the other end of the rock with his arms crossed and a dark scowl on his face.

“ _Save it_ , Cas,” Dean growled, stalking toward Castiel like an avalanche tumbling down a mountain, “ _I saw them_. And earlier, after the battle, you said _you_ told me Lucifer had spies. But _you_ never told me that. And Ash and Victor both seem to know you, and the way you _fought_ today _…_ dammit, I’m not an _idiot_ , Cas,” Dean snapped.

Castiel sighed and looked away, out over the water. “I never said you were, Dean.”

“Let me see them.”

Cas turned back toward Dean, tilting his head curiously at the command. “ _Your wings._ I want to see them. Now.”

Castiel lifted his chin, setting his jaw defiantly, but made his wings visible. The air around them sizzled with energy as he extended them to their full size.

Dean fought to maintain an angry expression, but his eyes widened and his lips parted at the beautiful fixtures. He looked first at the black wing, green eyes wide, and then over at the still-painted wing. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he narrowed his eyes at Cas.

“I apologize for keeping it from you.”

“ _Then why did you?_ ” Dean asked desperately, stepping closer so they were only inches apart, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I was _angry_ with you, Dean! And not without justification. And then there was never a good opportunity—“

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Cas. You had _plenty_ of chances to tell me. So give me the real reason _.”_

“Fine,” Cas said, his voice dropping to a low growl, “I was _afraid,_ Dean. I lived fifteen years with _no one_ knowing my secret. _Not a soul._ And from out of nowhere, _you_ waltz in, and everything started falling apart—“

“No one knows? _Really_? You’re telling me Victor and Ash don’t know?  Meg doesn’t know? _Chuck_ doesn’t know? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like I’m the _only one_ who didn’t know!” Dean exploded. “And I used to be the one you told _everything_ to!”

 Castiel’s lips parted in surprise. _That_ was why Dean was upset. Castiel tilted his head slightly, looking up at Dean, “You don’t think you deserve to be forgiven,” Castiel ducked his head, keeping his eyes locked on Dean’s. “You’re not upset with _me;_ you’re upset with _yourself_ because you think you deserve this. You think I didn’t tell you because I no longer care for you or trust you.”

Dean cringed, looking for a moment like he'd been struck, but quickly regained his composure. “You know what? Fuck you, Cas. And fuck your goddamn _secret._ ” Dean turned to leave, but Castiel grabbed him by the arm, taking a step closer to the human.

“The vigilante is not invulnerable. When my secret is threatened, so are the people close to me. You think I can afford to be _Castiel_? There’s a bigger picture here.”

He leaned in closer, making Dean look uncomfortable.

“You should show me some respect.”

He let go of Dean’s arm, but the human didn’t back away. He just stood, close enough so that Castiel could feel his warmth, glaring down at Castiel. They both refused to look away first, and refused to back down until the other made a move.

Until Dean’s eyes dropped to Castiel’s lips.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean growled, frustrated green eyes taking in the angel’s confused scowl. Before Cas had a chance to wonder what that look meant, Dean had a hand on Castiel’s face and another twisting into his hair. Dean felt himself moving forward even as he aggressively pulled the angel to him into a fierce kiss that almost bordered on violent.

Castiel froze, a hand automatically reaching up to touch the calloused hand on his face. Of all the reactions Dean could have had to discovering his secret, this was the one he’d least expected.

The angel melted into the kiss, pressing his body flush against the firm line of muscle that was _Dean._ Dean made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl and nipped at Cas’ bottom lip, making Cas gasp and give Dean access to Castiel's mouth. Cas carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, tugging at it in response.

One of Dean’s hands dropped to the space just above Castiel’s ass, trying to force him closer despite them already being pressed together from their heads to their toes. Cas moaned into the human’s perfect mouth when Dean ground his hips against Castiel’s groin once in a slow, dizzying motion. Dean repeated the motion, wringing another sound from Cas.

Cas pulled back just enough to breathe, opening his eyes to look at Dean. The hunter had his eyes screwed shut and he leaned back in, pressing his forehead against Cas’.

They just breathed each other in for several minutes, neither of them saying anything, letting their hands roam lazily across the other’s body.

Dean was even more beautiful this close. Cas took all of it in: the feather-light sweep of thick brown lashes as their tips fluttered lightly against his cheekbones, the freckles, barely visible against the tan of Dean’s skin under the warm sunlight, and how they were concentrated at select points—his cheekbones, the sides of his nose, around his eyes, Dean’s nose—beautifully flawed, left crooked after one too many fights, and of course, the lips. Dean’s kiss-swollen, beautifully shaped lips.

Cas brought a hand up to cup Dean’s jaw, holding the hunter still. He leaned up, first pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips. He moved to Dean’s nose, pressing a light, open-mouthed kiss to a cluster of freckles, then moved to Dean’s cheek. Next, he kissed Dean’s eyelid, then the tip of his eyebrow.  

He repeated the process down the other side of Dean’s face, ending with the hunter’s lips once more.

“Dean Winchester.” Castiel’s voice—though no more than a low whisper—was a command. “Listen to me. You’re wrong.”

Dean’s impossibly green eyes fluttered open, catching Cas staring at him. “About what?”

“If you think I don’t care.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t, Cas. I don’t deserve—“

“Dean,” Cas continued, ignoring the human, “I care about you now as much as I did when we were children—more, even, now that I see what a good, righteous man you have become.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“Good things _do_ happen, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean's eyes dropped to Castiel's neck, and he traced his fingers across the pendant Cas always wore. "You still wear it," he breathed.

"Of course."

But then Dean was pushing away, gently.

Cas frowned, worried he’d said something wrong, but was relieved to see a smile playing at the corner of the hunter’s lips. “I’m still pissed,” Dean said, gently shoving Cas’ shoulder.

He was more forceful than he’d intended, though, and Castiel wasn’t expecting the attack. The angel, perched at the very edge of the rock, lost his balance and grabbed the closest thing to him—Dean’s shirt—which sent them both plummeting into the freezing cold water.

 

Dean emerged from the water first, laughing.

Cas came up a minute later, looking completely ridiculous. He was coughing and gasping, his dark hair—free of the gel that had been holding it back—plastered to his forehead, eye liner already starting to run, wings flailing behind him as they tried to figure out what had just happened—all while he was trying to glare at the laughing hunter.

“Dude, how the hell are you the same guy that can terrorize an entire city? You’re way too freaking adorable.”

Cas snorted. Pushing his hair back from his face and rubbing at his eyes, he smiled. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Dean, but I detect a note of forgiveness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, splashing Cas, “Can I level with you, man?”

“Of course.”

“I’m freaking relieved. On the one hand, there’s _you,_ you know, all cute and innocent and the guy I’ve been in love with for like, forever, and on the other hand there’s the other you, sweeping in with the gorgeous wings and freaking awesome kissing skills, and I thought I was being a jerk by—“

“Been in love with?” Cas interrupted, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Huh?”

“You said you’re in love with me.”

“No I—shit. Um, I mean—“

“Dean,” Cas smiled fondly, splashing back at Dean, “I’ve loved you since I was six.”

“Really? Me too. I mean, with you, obviously, not myself—yeah. Um. Yeah.” Dean made a face.

Cas laughed and stood, the sand shifting beneath his bare feet. The water ended around his chest, and he frowned pathetically down at his soaked clothes.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

 “Yes, Dean?”

“I think you lost one of your, uh, contacts.”

Cas squinted at Dean, then his eyes widened in understanding. “Shit. Which eye?”

“Left. Dude, that’s seriously creepy looking, actually—you’ve got the one bright blue eye and the other’s still brown,” Dean laughed, sinking deeper into the water, content with their current situation. The water was actually pleasant, once you’d adjusted. He snickered. “Also, your makeup’s running.”

The angel scowled at him, taking out the remaining contact and scrubbing his face clean.

“Say, Cas,” Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm to pull him closer. “So the wings. Are they painted?”

“Yes,” Castiel breathed, irritation forgotten in light of Dean’s closeness, “the black is rather conspicuous.”

“No shit,” Dean laughed, reaching up to touch the black wing. He hesitated just before touching it, “Can I?”

Cas nodded, his expression warning Dean to be gentle.

Dean started at the top of the wing along the bone, just brushing his fingers along the smaller covert feathers. At the first touch, Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft sigh. “They’re like, waterproof,” Dean marveled.

"It’s, um,” Castiel began, trying to focus on what he was saying, but it was difficult with Dean’s light touch on his wing. “oil. Oil glands,” he finally managed.

“Oh.” Dean turned to look at the other wing, which was still mostly white. “How do you get that off?”

“Grooming. It comes out pretty easily once it’s wet—I just brush my fingers through it.”

“Cool. Can I do it?”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he tried not to gape. “You’re…you’re offering to groom my wings?”

Dean shrugged, an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. “If you want…I mean, is that like, taboo or something?”

“No,” Cas said a little too quickly, “You can, it’s just usually saved for—“ Castiel broke off under Dean’s hopeful look. “Just be gentle. You know how sensitive they can be.”

“Sure,” Dean grinned, looking up at the wings excitedly. “Where do I start? I just comb my fingers through them?”

Cas nodded. “It might be easier out of the water, though.”

Dean followed Cas back to the rock, hauling himself up after Castiel. Cas sat cross legged on the warm, flat surface, spreading his wings out behind him. “Start with the back.”

Dean kneeled behind Cas, gingerly reaching out to run his hands through the black wing. “There’s still paint in this one,” he said, pulling a clump of white out of the softer feathers near Cas’ shoulder blades.

Cas jumped, his back arching at the touch. “There are some spots I can’t reach myself.”

Dean nodded, realizing Cas couldn’t see the gesture. All around the base of the wings—where wing met shoulder—was matted and clumpy. They were wet, too, slick with—Dean rubbed his fingers together thoughtfully—some sort of oil.

Dean reached over to get some water on his hands and got to work on the white wing, deciding to start from the tip and work his way inward.

A minute later, he whistled. “Isn’t this a lot of work to do every day? Your wings are _massive,_ Cas _._ Definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

Castiel’s wings flared out under Dean’s fingers, the feathers puffing themselves out.

Dean smiled, regarding the wings with what was probably a look of pure wonder. “You did that the other day with Michael and Chuck too. What is that?” He asked, noticing when the tips of Cas’ ears and the back of his neck turned several shades redder. He leaned forward, reaching around and grabbing Cas’ chin and turning the angel toward him. Sure enough, Castiel was blushing, his blue eyes meeting Dean’s for only a second before darting away. “What?” Dean asked with a smile.

“Wings do more than just help us fly.”

Dean settled back on his haunches, getting back to the grooming. “Yeah? How so?”

“They…they’re like a lion’s mane or a peacock’s tail—“ Cas broke off with a gasp when Dean reached the matted feathers near the base of the wing.

“Meaning?”

Cas shook his head, taking several deep breaths. Raising an eyebrow, Dean temporarily moved away from the sensitive spot.

“They also...help us attract mates. Usually, the larger an angel’s wings, the more attractive they’re considered—so when you say my wings are large—“

“Got it,” Dean laughed, “So the feather thing is some sort of angelic posturing?”

Dean could practically hear Castiel’s eyes roll. “Something like that. Sometimes our wings have ways of expressing our more… _primal_ feelings, whether we wish them to or not.”

Quietly, Dean leaned forward again. He dug his fingers into the sensitive feathers and pressed the ghost of a kiss against the nape of the angel’s neck. Cas shuddered, his wings fluttering spastically.

“So what does _that_ mean, then?”  Dean whispered against Castiel’s neck, voice husky.

“ _Dean,”_ the angel whined, tilting his head and baring his neck to Dean. “Please.”

The human sat back after a few light kisses against Castiel's exposed skin, smirking. “I’m almost done with the back. Then I’ll get started on the front.”

“Maybe…” Cas breathed, “Maybe I should just do the undersides myself.”

Dean playfully tugged at a handful of feathers in response, effectively shutting the angel up.

“Hang on, so when your wings did that thing around Michael was that you being _jealous?_ ” Dean asked with a grin.

“It was a…territorial display, yes,” the angel admitted reluctantly.

“Don't objectify me," Dean chuckled, "Do you want me to do this sensitive part or no?”

Castiel’s shoulders rolled and the angel took a deep breath. “You can do it,” he said quietly. “Be _extremely_ gentle, Dean, especially around the oil glands. And I apologize in advance for whatever sounds may fall from my lips.”

Dean laughed nervously, palming at the ridiculously hard boner he was sporting. “Don’t apologize, angel.”

He looked over the rest of the wings, first, seeing if there was anything he missed. “Jesus, Cas, your wings are fucking _gorgeous,_ ” he said, loving the way the feathers puffed themselves out proudly even as Castiel’s cheeks reddened.

They really were. They were beautiful at night, a blackness so dark you could’ve believed they were just a hole in the fabric of the universe, but they were _so_ different in the sunlight. The light danced across the feathers—not black, but a deep blue, green, purple, even red, depending how the light hit them. “Jesus,” he said again, not even realizing it when his fingers slipped into the sensitive feathers they’d been hovering over.

Cas’ head fell back and he made a sound—Dean didn’t even know _how_ to classify it, but it was _sensual as fuck_. Encouraged by the sound, Dean started brushing his fingers through the soft downy feathers, using the oil that now coated his fingers to help weed out the feathers that were loose, out of place, or tangled.

He tried to ignore Castiel’s reactions beneath him, at least until he was finished and he could give them the attention they deserved, but it was impossible to block him out. The pitiful angel was _trembling_ from head to toe—even his wings. Dean could feel them humming under his fingers. Every couple of seconds another lust-filled sound fell from the angel’s perfect lips, this time a moan, the next a whimper, but usually a simple, broken “ _Dean.”_

Dean was painfully hard by this point, so he could only imagine how Cas must be feeling.

“Okay,” he tried to say, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m, uh, finished. You can turn around now.”

The angel was up before the words were fully out of Dean's mouth, spinning and jumping Dean with an eagerness that left the human breathless. Cas straddled his lap, shamelessly grinding up against him and plastering kisses on every inch of Dean’s exposed skin he could reach.

“Keep touching, Dean,” the angel begged, nipping at Dean’s earlobe, “Please. Feels so good. Need you to touch me.”

“God, Cas,” Dean gasped, reaching up to place a hand on either side of Castiel’s face. He remembered too late that his fingers were coated in the oil from Cas’ wings.

Which, of course, only seemed to drive the angel crazier. Cas rubbed his head against Dean’s neck like a cat, while his hands worked at tearing off the hunter’s shirt. Dean helped him, eventually managing to push Castiel away long enough to get the shirt over himself.

The second it was off, Cas resumed his attack, kissing along Dean’s collarbone and then down his chest, pausing to suck at one of Dean’s nipples.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean growled, twisting a hand into the angel’s dark hair. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull the angel away or hold him there.

After a brief internal debate, he decided on the former, pressing a reassuring kiss to Castiel’s lips when the angel whined at the loss of contact.

“Shhh, I know,” he cooed, “Let me finish, Cas. Then you can do whatever you want to me, kay babe?”

Cas nodded breathlessly, trying to calm himself down. He refused to get off the hunter’s lap, though.

“This part’s gonna be worse,” he mumbled against Dean’s lips, “more sensitive.”

“That’s okay, Cas. I got you,” Dean promised, “’S almost done already—the water earlier washed most of the paint out.” He said, threading his fingers through both wings at once. The angel shuddered and buried his face in Dean’s neck, panting and writhing on the hunter’s lap.

“Dean. I need more. I need you.”

“Fuck. You’re _so hot,_ Cas, coming all undone for me like this. My perfect, beautiful, black winged angel. I love how easy it is to make you fall apart,” Dean said, hardly aware of what he was saying by this point. Castiel’s hips had picked up a slow, erratic pace, despite how much the angel was obviously fighting to restrain himself.

Between that, his hands completely buried in the soft, oil-slick black wings, and the angel’s lips kissing and sucking at a spot on his neck, Dean could barely even see straight anymore.

"You're mine, Cas," he found himself saying, the words pouring out of him before he could stop them, "never letting you go again, got it?"

Cas nodded. “Dean,” Cas repeated in a reverent whisper between kisses, mewling in surprise when Dean tugged lightly at a handful of downy feathers near the joint. 

“Done,” Dean breathed, “paint’s out.”

“Good,” Cas growled, shoving Dean down onto his back. He wrapped a hand around the back of Dean’s head, cushioning it so it didn’t slam against the rock. Cas followed the hunter down, rutting against him in a desperate search for friction.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, letting his eyes fall shut. “Shit, that’s so good.”

Encouraged, Cas rubbed against Dean harder and faster, running his hands reverently up and down the human’s sides. “Keep touching me, Dean.”

Dean immediately did as he told, reaching up and over Cas’ wings to find the oil glands again, and started massaging the area gently.

Castiel’s pace stuttered and he let out a choked sob, again burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean froze. “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

In reply, Cas buried his nails in Dean’s sides. “Don’t stop,” he growled in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

Dean whimpered and nodded, the rough of his stubble rubbing against Castiel’s ear. He continued gently massaging and tugging at the feathers in turn.

Cas pulled away for a few seconds, just long enough to tug Dean’s pants down to his knees. The next second he was back down, kissing Dean long and hard, with the human’s hands tangled back in his wings. He reached behind his back, finding his wings _dripping_ with oil because of the overstimulation of the gland. He coated his fingers in it and then reached between their bodies.

Deans eyes widened when Castiel wrapped a hand around his dick, pumping slowly. “ _Cas,_ ” Dean keened, back arching at the touch. He thrust upward in small movements, searching for friction. Castiel started pumping his hand faster, setting a steady pace while Dean stroked his wings.

By this point, there was no more kissing—just heavy breathing, soft sighs, and wanton moans coming from both of them.

The closer Dean got to the edge, the rougher his hands in Castiel’s feathers got.

“Dean,” Cas plead, “I’m going to—I’m almost—“

“Me too,” Dean nodded, thrusting erratically into Cas’ hand. “Come on, Cas, let me see you,” he breathed, lifting his head to steal a quick kiss. “Let me see you when you come, baby. Come for me, Cas.” The bastard actually  _pressed down_ on Casitel's oil gland.

“ _Dean,_ ” Cas gasped as he came. His mouth fell open, his back arched, and his wings flared out as a jolt of white-hot, deliciously burning electricity shot from them down to Castiel’s groin and on to every part of his body. His eyes fluttered shut and he fell forward, pressing his forehead against Dean’s and gasping as the orgasm wracked his entire body.

Dean was coming in his hand a second later.

Cas collapsed against Dean’s chest, boneless, and Dean sheepishly removed his hands from the angel’s wings. Instead, he stroked the angel’s hair, the dark brown locks already starting to dry and stick up in whatever direction they chose. He smiled to himself.

“That was…pleasant,” the angel said against his chest.

“Thank you, Mr. obvious.”

Castiel stirred, lifting himself so he could look down at Dean. “Are you and I good, then?”

Dean snorted. “I’d say so.”

“You know what I mean,” Cas pushed, not unkindly.

“We’re good,” Dean smiled. Cas smiled back at him with that adorable toothy, eye-crinkling smile.

“I’m glad.” Cas sat up, looking down at his chest, which was covered in Dean’s quickly-drying come, and his pants, which were stained with his own. “I’d say we should be getting back, but I think perhaps we need to clean up first.”

Dean nodded, sitting up and subtly shifting his position so Cas was between him and the pond. “There’s a pretty quick fix for that.”

Cas looked over at the crouching hunter curiously. “What might that be?”

There was a wicked glint in Dean’s eyes and his lips were twisting into a smile that Castiel knew from experience meant no good, and the next second Dean was tackling him, launching him back off the rock and into the water.

 

"Okay, okay," Dean laughed when Cas came up for air. " _Now_ we're good. You gotta admit you kind of deserved that."

Cas rolled his eyes but nodded. Offering a hand up toward Dean, he asked, "help me out?" 

Dean reached down to pull Cas out of the water, but as soon as Castiel had a grip on Dean's hand, he yanked hard, pulling Dean in with him.

 

Sam gave them a pursed lip-judgmental look when they finally returned to Bobby's. "Um...why are you both wet?"

"Because your brother is immature and thought it would be funny," Cas said with a fond smile in Dean's direction.

"Right...well, when you guys, uh, dry off, Bobby sent a message telling us to head down to HQ as soon as possible."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...it's been a while, huh? And I kinda left off at a terrible spot...sorry about that, guys :) It was just school, and other issues, and...ah, who am I kidding. It was writer's block. Really bad writer's block. BUT IM BACK. This chapter's pretty short and fun (CROWLEY, ENOUGH SAID), but I already have a good chunk of the next chapter started. Right now I'm banking on this story being about ten chapters total. Enjoy!

“Well," Bobby sighed, gesturing toward the open field in front of them. It was full of people-- hunters, presumably. "I thought it might kill me, but I managed to get everyone together long enough to explain the situation. They’re all ready to go: a hundred self-armed and seasoned hunters, angels, and assorted monsters, all ready to fight in a war against Lucifer." 

“Hah. I’d like to see Michael and his 'city guard' manage this,” Dean smirked.

“It _is_ rather impressive,” Cas agreed, standing close by his side.

Sam, Dean, Cas, and Bobby walked through the field, weaving among groups of hunters. Dean and Sam often stopped to talk to friends and acquaintances, usually introducing them to Castiel as well. He met the hunters Gordon, Annie, Rufus, Jodi, Samuel and Gwen Cambell (who were apparently related to the Winchesters, though they didn’t seem to be close), and Charlie Bradbury (who said she liked to think of herself as more of a “technical director” than a “hunter”). They weren’t all human hunters, either. Castiel met Dean’s good friend Benny, a vampire, and Sam’s friend Amy, who was something called a kitsune. There was Garth, recently turned werewolf, a demon named Cain, and a reaper named Tessa.

At one point, Castiel thought he caught a glimpse of dappled gold feathers. He immediately broke from Dean’s side to follow the disappearing wings.

“Gabriel?” Cas asked, squinting at the figure moving through the camp ahead of him. “Gabriel!” he repeated at a louder volume.

Gabriel turned, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face when he saw Sam and Dean. “Well if it isn’t the Winchester boys. Who’s your friend?” he turned to the bemused Castiel. Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes and Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Cassie?!_ Holy crap! Sorry about that, kiddo, I didn’t recognize you without your black beauties.”

“Black beauties?” Sam asked skeptically.

“Great. _Gabe_ knows too?” Dean asked at the same time.

“Gabriel is the one who showed me how to hide them in the first place,” Cas said, answering Dean.

“So you’re still covering them, huh?” Gabe asked, patting Cas on the arm. “I was self-conscious about my wings when I was a young ‘un too. But now I flaunt it,” he smirked, flaring his wings proudly.

“Does someone want to fill me in?” Sam asked.

“Cassie’s just embarrassed because his wings are black,” Gabriel supplied cheerfully, convinced he was being helpful.

“I’m not _embarrassed,”_ Cas grumbled.

“Sure you’re not.”

“Wait, Cas has—“ Sam looked between Dean and Cas, face scrunched up in concentration, “But Dean, you said the—but I thought the— _oh._ Oh. Cas, I had no idea—wow. Um. That’s awesome.”

Cas rolled his shoulders. “The hell with it,” he growled, setting his wings loose.

The hunters around him all stopped their conversations to stare at the black-winged angel with the blue eyes, all of them having heard the stories of Eden's Vigilante. Seeing Castiel standing tall, wings arched proudly behind his back, there was no question of his identity.

Cas found it strangely liberating. 

Gabriel pouted. "Since when have your wings been bigger than mine?" he whined. Cas rolled his eyes, choosing not to answer the indignant archangel.

“But what about the whole _secret_ thing?” Dean asked, clenching his fists to avoid threading his fingers through the silky black feathers.

“I think the time for secrets has passed, Dean,” Cas said wryly.

"Well, I'm proud of you for getting over the whole self-conscious thing, Cassie," Gabe whacked him on the shoulder. "Dean-o, I heard you the one to tell Michael about Lucifer? How'd that go?" 

"Michael just flirted with him the whole time." It was Castiel's turn to pout.

Gabriel snorted. "Huh. Not the reaction I would have expected, but whatever. We'll talk more later, but I have to go find my girlfriend Kali. Good seeing ya, Cassie. Winchesters."

. 

Meg rested her chin on her hand, watching Jo and Ellen as the cleaned up after rush hour.

Ellen glanced up from behind the counter, pursing her lips at the demon. “Were you planning on helping at all?”

“Sure,” Meg said, snapping out of her daze. “What do you need done?”

“Really?” Ellen asked, setting aside her work to study Meg. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Fine. I just can’t help but worry about Clarence.”

“Why? Castiel can handle himself—and he’s with Victor, Ash, and Dean.”

“I don’t know Dean. I don’t like how easily he swept in here, I don’t like that he and Cas have some sort of history, and I don’t like Dean’s influence over Castiel. The poor lovestruck angel looks at that damn hunter like he’s his whole world. It’s not gonna end well—Dean’s going to find out about Cas, or one of them’s gonna get hurt, or—“

Jo pouted. “Are you jealous of Dean?”

Meg would be lying if she said the disappointment in Jo’s tone didn’t thrill her.

“Of course not. I’m really just worried about the angel’s safety. And Victor’s. And the King’s. And even Ash’s, much as it pains me to admit it. When Lucifer wants something, he gets it. And then he crushed anyone that tried to stand in his way.”

Jo wandered over to Meg, taking her hand. Meg leaned back in her seat and watched Jo cautiously. She tried to ignore the strange fluttering feeling that started somewhere near the pit of her stomach. “They’ll be fine, Meg. And we’ll stop Lucifer.” Jo reached up and touched Meg’s cheeks, trying to push a smile onto the demon’s face. “Concerned is a good look on you, Meg.”

“I don’t like poetry, Jo. Put up or shut up.”

“Well, isn’t this _touching._ ”

Meg jumped out of her seat at the sound of the new voice, stepping in front of Jo protectively (despite the woman being slightly taller than the petite demon). Meg drew her knife and dropped into a defensive stance.

“Crowley,” she growled, keeping her tone light and smug despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to run. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“I’ll say,” the man replied, hands in his pockets. He glanced around the Roadhouse casually, walking between the tables to approach the bar. The man was dressed in a sleek black suit, and he wore a self-satisfied smirk on his smug dick face. Just as Meg remembered him.

The King of Hell was flanked by two other demons.

“Ruby!” Meg taunted the demon over Crowley’s shoulder, “You’ve gained weight!”

The dark-haired woman sneered in response, reaching for her own weapon.

“Down, girl,” Crowley said to Ruby in his smooth accent. Turning back to Meg, he raised his palms in a placating manner. “I just want to talk.”

Meg hesitated. “Then talk. But you must be stupider than you look if you think I’m putting the knife away.”

Crowley sighed. “So hostile.” He turned to Jo and Ellen. “Crowley, by the way. King of Hell.”

“Really? Because I heard you got kicked out,” Jo smirked.

Ruby started forward with a growl. Meg dropped lower into her crouch and growled louder, challenging Ruby to try anything.

“Ruby!” Crowley scowled, “Learn to control yourself or I’ll make outside! Sorry. Again. It’s so hard to find good bodyguards nowadays. I like your little blonde pet, Meg. She’s fiery.”

“What do you want, Crowley?” Meg asked.

“I’m told this is the place to talk to the vigilante.”

“Sorry,” Meg sneered, “Clarence isn’t home right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Where is he?” Crowley asked, beginning to lose his patience. He sighed when it was clear the Roadhouse crew wasn’t going to answer him. “Look, you're right to be suspicious, but I'm your ally. The enemy of my enemy and all that. I need the devil back back in his stock. In fact, my delicate arse depends on it."

Meg raised an eyebrow.

Crowley sighed. "He  _drove me out of my home._ I spent two weeks under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on Hell and Earth's got his eyes out for me! And yet,  _here I am,_ last place I should be-- in  _Eden,_ talking to the  _vigilante's_ accomplices!”

“He has a point,” Meg said, lowering his knife.

“What?” Jo asked, “Are you crazy?”

“Hey. Take it from a demon. We may be manipulative and cruel, but we’re usually good on our word. And as long as we’ve got a common enemy, I’m sure we’ll all get along famously.”

“Yeah, and when Lucifer is gone?”

“Then I’ll take the highway back to Hell and we can all go back to the way we were before this nasty business started. But _you’re_ facing an invasion, and _I’m_ facing a revolution, so I say we combine our strengths and crush the opposition,” Crowley interrupted.

Ellen shifted behind the bar. “I’d say that sounds fair. If Meg says he can be trusted.”

“Trusted? No,” Meg smiled, not taking her eyes of Crowley. “But we’d be stupid not to accept his help.”

“Good,” Crowley said, “Now that that’s settled, may I _please_ speak with the vigilante?”

“He’s not here, but he should be back tomorrow morning. He was with a group escorting the King to Sioux Falls.”

“Oh,” Crowley turned to give Ruby a meaningful look. “Well in that case, there’s not much I can do besides get as far from Eden as physically possible before Lucifer hits, and I suggest you do the same.”

“What are you talking about? I thought you were going to help.”

“The king’s dead,” Crowley shrugged.

Meg turned, wide-eyed, to look at Jo.

“Or at least,” the demon continued, “he should be by now. Lucifer found out about Shurley’s little escape plan and sent the best of his cronies that were in the city to ambush the group on the road. Twenty demons, at least. Probably more. And how many were in your party?”

“Six, not counting the king and queen,” Jo grumbled.

“Exactly. Something tells me your angel isn’t coming back.”

“You underestimate him, then,” Meg said, resolute, “he’s alive, believe me. Your demons are probably rotting in a ditch right now.”

“ _Lucifer’s_ demons,” Crowley corrected. “I’ll wait one day. If your boy isn’t back by then, I’m leaving.”

“Fine.”

“How’d you know about the ambush, anyways?” Jo asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“Never underestimate the king of Hell, darling. I know a lot of swell tricks."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, It took me waaay too long to post this chapter. But I'm not abandoning this story, guys, I swear!

“Twenty-four hours, your boy’s still not here. I’m leaving,” Crowley growled, turning toward the door.

“You’d really give up your claim to Hell just because you don’t want to wait around an extra day?” Jo asked, giving him a look of disbelief.

Brushing off his suit, Crowley made a face at Jo. “If you must know, yes. My hide means a great deal more to me than Eden does. I can get hell back some other time, when Lucifer's not expecting it.”

“Lucifer’s army isn’t going to get here for another _week_ , at the rate its moving. You have time, Crowley,” Meg said. She was lounging at one of the Roadhouse’s tables with her heeded boots resting on its polished surface, cleaning the dirt out from under her nails with a knife. Her sister, sitting next to her, made a disgusted sound at shoved at Meg's feet.

“Yes, and if there were a chance the Vigilante might still be _alive,_ Crowley and I might risk sticking around,” Ruby said. Meg kicked at her.

“Just wait.”

Crowley sighed and collapsed onto a bar stool. “As you may recall: patience isn’t one of my virtues…well, I don’t have any virtues, but if I did I’m sure patience wouldn’t be one of them.”

“ _H_ _e’s alive,_  Crowley,"Meg said.

“So you’ve said,” Crowley snapped, turning in his stool to glare at Meg. He sat with his back to Ellen and the bar, leaning against it. “But unfortunately, that’s not good enough anymore. Ruby, grab your things and give your _charming_ little sister a kiss, as I expect it’s the last time you’ll see her alive.”

Meg let out a sudden bark of laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” Crowley asked, exasperated.

“The Vigilante’s right behind you, _meatsack._ ”

Crowley turned to see a blue-eyed angel standing behind the bar, pinning him down with a stare that almost intense enough to perturb even Crowley. The angel looked away with disinterest, gaze turning to Meg.

“I wasn’t aware you had a sister.”

"Oh, yeah,” Meg rolled her eyes, pointing at the female demon beside her, “Bucket of sunshine, that one is. Can’t believe I’ve never mentioned her.”

Ruby sighed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “You’re no barrel of fun either, sis.”

“ _Crowley_?!” a new voice growled, the man it belonged to emerging from a door behind the vigilante.

Crowley groaned. “Great. As if I didn’t have enough of  headache after listening to the witch sisters bickering all morning. Dean Winchester. Ah, I see Moose is with you as well,” he nodded curtly at the taller man coming in behind Dean. “Hello, boys.”

Sam groaned when he saw Crowley.

“You’re Crowley,” the angel observed, studying the demon with more interest. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Oh, I can tell I’m just going to _love_ you,” Crowley said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought  _you_ would be...I don't know, scarier."

Castiel raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply, but Ruby cut him off.

“What smells like week old reuse?” she asked, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

“That would be Sam and Dean,” the Vigilante said, smiling slightly.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Cas?” Crowley asked, looking between the two with raised eyebrows, “Would that be short for something?”

Castiel ignored the question. “I assume you’re here to see me for a reason, Crowley?”

“I am indeed. I’m here to offer my help.”

Dean snorted.

“Shut it, Squirrel. I mean it. I want Lucifer out of the picture.”

“We’ve already established that he’s telling the truth,” Meg supplied.

“How can you help?”

“I can offer one hundred demons for the battle.”

Sam laughed. “Seriously, Crowley? That’s the best you can do? You're the _King of Hell_.”

“I wasn’t _done_ , Sasquatch. I can also help you find Lucifer’s spies in the city.”

Castiel studied Crowley with interest, then shrugged. “I could find them myself. This _is_ my city.”

“Maybe, but I’d bet I could help you find them _faster._ Look, you’d be great bloody _idiots_ not to accept my help, but if I’m not welcome, Ruby and I will pack up our things—“

“Who are Lucifer’s spies, then?” Castiel cut in.

“I don’t know all of their names, but I have my own spy in the city—a girl named Bela Talbot. Brilliantly clever girl. She lives on the upper north side—the penthouse suite of the Colt hotel. Go find her, give her this ring, let her know if she tells you everything she knows about Lucifer’s presence in the city, I’ll render our contract fulfilled.”

“Bela Talbot,” Castiel repeated thoughtfully, taking the ring Crowley held out to him.

“Be careful, though,” Crowley smirked, “She’s a bit… _feisty._ ”

"Understood. Dean, Sam, are you coming?" Castiel asked, turning back towards the door they'd came in from.

“Wait, you’re going _now_?” Meg asked. She stood up. “But you just got back!”

“The hunters are waiting outside the city, Meg. We need to take care of Lucifer’s spies before they can come in. It would be prudent to keep them as a surprise,” Cas explained.

“Fair point.” Approaching Cas, Meg pulled him into a quick hug. She pulled away before Castiel even had a chance to reciprocate. “Good to have you back, Clarence."

"Aw," Jo grinned, "I _knew_ you missed him, Meg."

Meg turned a furious shade of bright red. "Shut up, Jo! Did not!"

"And I believe that's our cue to leave," Cas said, giving Dean and Sam a look.

"Great," Crowley grumbled. "I'll stay here with the bickering women."

Ellen looked like she agreed with Crowley. "Have fun, boys.”

 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stood in the middle of the dark street, looking up at one of the tallest buildings in Eden.

“Penthouse suite, huh?” Dean asked, “How exactly are we supposed to get up there? I mean, I don’t think a place like this is gonna let us just walk in, what with Sam and I smelling like shit from the sewers and Cas being the infamous Vigilante…”

"Good point," Sam nodded.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, Dean, but I _do_ have wings.”

“Oh, I _definitely_ noticed,” Dean smirked.

“Did you just _wink_ at him?” Sam asked, pulling a bitchface. He looked between Dean and Cas suspiciously. "So are you guys  _sure_ you're not..."

“What? No! Shut up. So Cas can fly, but what about me and Sam?”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Oh, _fuck_ no. Not a chance. We’ll find another way.”

The angel turned to the more reasonable Winchester. “Sam?”

“I don’t mind it,” he shrugged.

“ _Traitor_ ,” Dean growled under his breath.

“Sam, I will fly you up to the balcony, then I will return for you, Dean.”

Pouting, Dean crossed his arms and watched Cas prepare Sam for the flight. On one hand, he felt a surge of jealousy watching Cas wrap an arm around Sam’s waist and take off, but on the other, he did _not_ want to fly.

And then there was that whole other problem of they way he couldn't help but admire the way the muscles of Castiel's wings rippled when he took off, and that just led him to remember the other day by the lake...

Cas was back behind him in seconds, and by that time Dean was completely enveloped in his little daydream. He jumped about a foot in the air when there was a sudden flap of wings beside him, and he turned on Cas with a scowl. "Do I need to get you a bell?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and moved to pull Dean closer, but Dean sidestepped out of his reach. “Uh, you know what? That’s okay, Cas. I’ll, uh, stay here and…um. _Keep watch_ , and you and Sam can deal with Bela.”

Cas chuckled, smiling fondly at Dean. “Dean. _Come here._ ” Reluctantly, Dean stepped closer to Cas.

"I mean it, Cas. I don't want to fly."

Castiel kissed the cringe off Dean’s face, rubbing the hunter’s waist in a soothing, circular motion. “You know I won’t drop you, right?”

“I…yeah, I just…don’t—“

Castiel cut him off with another kiss, this one much longer and much less chaste. Dean sighed and leaned into it, opening his mouth to give Cas more access when the angel demanded it.

Cas ran his hands up Dean's back, and then down over his ass.

 

Not giving Dean time to react, Cas used his grip to haul Dean up into his arms, bridal-style. Dean sqeaked, then looked horrified at the sound he'd just made.

"Put me  _down,_ Cas!" Dean hissed, squirming and trying to get out of Castiel's grip. "How the hell are you this strong?"

Castiel rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time since he'd been reunited with Dean. "I'm an  _angel,_ Dean," he said, impervious to Dean's frustrated wiggles. "Just close your eyes and hold on to me, and it'll be over before you know it."

"No, wait!" Dean let out another unmanly squeak when Cas took flight. He scrambled to wrap his arms around Cas' neck and buried his face in the angel's neck.

When Castiel landed on the suite’s balcony, Dean didn’t let go, his arms wrapped in a vice-like grip around the angel’s neck. Castiel folded his wings and awkwardly shifted Dean's weight in his arms. “Uh, Dean? We’ve landed.”

Sam looked over at them from where he'd been picking the lock to the balcony door and snorted loudly. "Wow. You two are  _adorable._ "

Dean, his face still buried in Castiel’s neck, made an annoyed grunting sound.

“You guys really are cute,” Sam began, chuckling, “And Dean, I'm never letting you live this down, but we’re kind of in the middle of something?”

Reluctantly, Castiel set Dean down and Dean stepped away, blushing furiously.

Sam succeeded in picking the lock. There were curtains covering the two glass doors, but light escaped through the crack beneath the door.

“Here goes,” Sam said, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Bela Talbot?” he called as he stepped inside, Dean and Castiel at his heels.

They found themselves in a cozy living area, but there was no one in it. Sam stepped toward the attached kitchen, peering around the room before turning back to Dean and Cas. “I don’t think anybody’s—“

At that moment, a woman stepped out from behind the corner, holding a knife to Sam’s neck before anybody could react.

“Next time you try ambushing someone, I’d suggest being a little quieter,” she purred into Sam’s ear.

“We’re not ambushing you,” Castiel said, holding his hands up. “I’m the Vigilante, and this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re hunters. Crowley told us where we could find you.”

“Crowley, huh?” the woman asked, peering around Sam’s shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to need more proof than that, Blue Eyes.”

Castiel held out the ring. “He said if you help us, he’ll consider your contract with him fulfilled.”

The woman, who could only be Bela, removed her knife form Sam’s neck. “In that case, I’m more than happy to help however I can. As long as it doesn't involve risking my own safety, of course.”

“We just need information,” Sam said, stepping away from her and rubbing his neck.

“That, I can do,” Bela said. She was beautiful, with long brown hair and sensuous movements. “Have a seat, boys. Would anybody like some drinks before we get started?”

Cas and Sam shook his head, but Dean shrugged. "Sure, what've you got?"

"Brandy?" Bela asked, raised her eyebrow. She raked her eyes obviously up and down Dean's body, making Castiel ruffle his feathers indignantly. 

Dean noticed the movement, remembering their earlier conversation, and smirked at Cas. "Problem?" Dean asked Cas in a whisper. Cas just glared at him in response.

Bela traipsed over to the corner of the room, pouring two drinks out of a glass container, and walked back over to hand one to Dean.

Bela sat on one of the couches and crossed her legs. She gestured for the guys to have a seat. “Alright, then. What can I do to help?”

“We need to know the identities of Lucifer’s spies in the city.”

“Oh, is that all? Most of the lower profile spies are already long gone, disappeared to go reunite with Lucifer’s army.”

"But there are some in the castle as well, are there not?" Castiel asked, sitting in the chair across from Bela.

"There are," she nodded, "There are five spies still remaining in the castle, last I heard. Three court officials: Sullivan, Walker, and Johnson."

Castiel nodded. That wasn't much of a surprise.

"There are two court angels as well."

Castiel's eyes widened. “Court angels? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now, what were their names? Zachariah and Uriel, I believe.”

 


End file.
